. 


UCS8   LIBRARY 

X- 


WILLIAM   SHAKESPEARE 


SHAKESPEARE'S 


COMEDY   OF 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE 


EDITED,  WITH  NOTES, 

BY 

WILLIAM  J.   ROLFE,  Lrrr.D., 

FORMERLY    HEAD   MASTER   OF   THE    HIGH   SCHOOL,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 


WITH  ENGRA  VINGS. 


NEW    YORK   AND    LONDON  : 

HARPER    &     BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 
iSqq. 


ENGLISH     CLASSICS. 

EDITED  BY  WM.  J.  ROLFE,  LITT.  D. 

Illustrated.     i6mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  volume  ;   Paper,  40  cents  per  volume. 


SHAKESPEARE 

The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

Othello. 

Julius  C'£esar. 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

Macbeth. 

Hamlet. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

As  You  Like  It. 

The  Tempest. 

Twelfth  Night. 

The  Winter's  Tale. 

King  John. 

Richard  II. 

Henry  IV.     Part  I. 

Henry  IV.     Part  II. 

Henry  V. 

Henry  VI.     Part  I. 

Henry  VI.     Part  II. 

Henry  VI.     Part  III. 


s  WORKS. 
Richard  III. 
Henry   VIII. 
King  Lear. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
All  's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 
Coriolanus. 

The  Comedy  of  Errors. 
Cymbeiine. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
Measure  for  Measure. 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 
Love's  Libour  's  Lost. 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 
Timon  of  Athens. 
Troilus  and  Cressida. 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 
Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece,  etc. 
Sonnets. 
Titus  Andronicus. 


GOLDSMITH'S  SELECT  POEMS.  BROWNING'S  SELECT  POEMS. 

GRAY'S  SELECT  POKMS.  BROWNING'S  SELECT  DRAMAS. 

MINOR  POEMS  OF  JOHN  MILTON.     MACAULAY'S  LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 
WORDSWORTH'S  SELECT  POEMS. 


NKW    YORK    AND    LONDON: 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright,  1870,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 
Copyright,  1883,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 
Copyright,  1898,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

THE  LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF  SHAKESPEARE i 

INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE 9 

I.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  PLAY 9 

II.  THE  SOURCES  OF  THE  PLOT u 

III.  CRITICAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAY 13 

THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE 39 

ACT  1 41 

"  II 56 

"III 78 

"IV 98 

"  V 114 

NOTES 125 


MONUMENT    AT   STRATFORD. 


JOHN  SHAKESPEARE'S  HOUSE  IN  HENLEY  STREET.     View  from  an  old  Print. 


THE     LIFE    AND    WORKS 


SHAKESPEARE. 


WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE  was  born  at  'Stratford-upon-Avon, 
>n  the  county  of  Warwick,  England,  in  April,  1564.  The  rec- 
ord of  his  baptism  bears  the  date  of  April  26th,  and  as  it  was 
an  old  custom  to  christen  children  on  the  third  day  after  birth, 
trie  tradition  which  makes  his  birthday  the  23d  has  been  com- 
monly accepted.  His  father,  John  Shakespeare,  seems  to 
have  belonged  to  the  class  of  yeomen,  and  to  have  been  3 
glover  by  trade.  His  mother,  Mary  Arderne,  or  Arden,  came 
of  a  good  old  Warwickshire  family,  and  brought  her  husband 
a  considerable  estate  as  dower.  John  Shakespeare  was 
for  many  years  an  alderman,  and  twice  filled  the  office  of 
High  Bailiff,  or  chief  magistrate,  but  later  in  life  he  appears 
to  have  become  quite  poor. 


2  THE  LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF 

Of  a  family  of  four  sons  and  four  daughters,  William  was 
the  third  child,  but  the  eldest  son.     He  was  in  all  probabili- 
ty sent  to  the  free-school  of  his  native  town,  and  after  leav- 
ing school  may  have  spent  some  time  in  an  attorney's  office 
But  in  1582,  when  he  was  only  18,  he  married  Anne  Hath 
away,  of  the  parish  of  Shottery,  near  Stratford,  a  woman  some 
eight  years  older  than  himself.     A  daughter  was  soon  born 
to  him,  and,  two  years  later,  twins — a  boy  and  a  giri. 


BOOM    IN    THE    HOUSE   IN    HENLEY  STREET,  WHERE   SHAKESPEARE   WAS    BORN. 

As  nearly  as  can  be  made  out,  it  was  in  the  next  year,  1586, 
that  Shakespeare,  then  22,  went  to  London,  where  he  became 
first  an  actor,  then  a  writer  for  the  stage.  As  an  actor  he 
seems  to  have  made  no  special  mark,  but  as  a  writer  he  very 
soon  distinguished  himself,  and  in  a  few  years  had  won  the 
foremost  rank  among  the  dramatists  of  his  time.  In  1598, 
Francis  Meres,  in  his  Wifs  Treasury,  speaks  of  him  as  "the 


SHAKESPEARE.  3 

most  excellent  among  the  English  for  both  kinds  of  tragedy 
and  comedy."  His  works  became  not  only  widely  popular, 
but  they  brought  him  special  marks  of  favor  and  approval 
from  Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  successor,  James,  and  gained 
for  him  the  patronage  and  friendship  of  some  of  the  most  ac« 
complished  men  of  rank  of  that  day. 


INNER   COURT    OF    THE   GRAMMAR    SCHOOL,  STRATFORD. 

But  while  thus  prosperous  and  honored  in  London,  Shake- 
speare continued  to  look  upon  Stratford  as  his  home.  There 
he  had  left  his  wife  and  children,  and  thither,  after  he  had 
secured  a  competency,  he  returned  to  spend  the  evening  of 


THE  LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF 


his  days  in  quiet.  It  was  probably  about  the  year  1612  that 
he  settled  down  in  Stratford,  on  an  estate  purchased  some 
years  previous.  His  wife  was  still  living,  and  also  his  two 


CHANCEL   OF   STRATFORD   CHURCH. 


SHAKESPEARE.  5 

daughters,  of  whom  the  elder,  Susanna,  was  married  to  Dr. 
John  Hall,  in  1607  ;  the  younger,  Judith,  to  Mr.  Thos.  Quin- 
ey,  in  1616.  His  son,  Hamnet,  had  died  in  his  twelfth  year, 
in  1596. 

Shakespeare  died  at  Stratford,  as  already  mentioned,  on 
the  23d  of  April,  1616;  and  he  lies  buried  in  the  parish 
church  there. 

The  first  work  of  Shakespeare's  which  was  printed  with  his 
name  was  the  poem  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  which  appeared  in 
1593.  In  the  Dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton  the 
author  styles  it  "the  first  heir  of  his  invention."  In  1594, 
The  Rape  of  Lucrece  was  published.  Both  these  poems  were 
reprinted  several  times  in  the  poet's  lifetime.  His  only  oth- 
er works,  besides  the  Plays,  are  The  Passionate  Pilgrim,  a 
small  collection  of  poems,  first  printed  in  1599,  and  his  Son- 
nets (154  in  number),  with  a  poem  entitled  A  Lover's  Com- 
plaint, which  appeared  together  in  1609. 

The  first  edition  of  his  collected  Dramatic  Works  contain- 
ed all  the  Plays  generally  included  in  modern  editions,  with 
the  exception  of  Pericles,  and  was  published  in  a  folio  vol- 
ume, in  1623,  or  not  till  seven  years  after  his  death.  It  was 
put  forth  by  two  of  his  friends  and  fellow  actors,  John  Hem- 
inge  and  Henrie  Condell,  and  the  title-page  declares  it  to  be 
printed  "  according  to  the  true  original  copies."  The  preface 
also  condemns  all  preceding  editions  of  separate  plays*  as 
"  stolen  and  surreptitious  copies,  maimed  and  deformed  by 
the  frauds  and  stealths  of  injurious  impostors,"  while  it  claims 
that  the  publishers  of  this  volume  had  the  use  of  the  author's 
manuscripts.  They  probably  had  the  use  of  such  of  his  pa- 
pers as  were  in  the  possession  of  the  Blackfriars  Theatre,  to 

*  Eighteen  of  the  Plays  are  known  to  have  been  separately  printed, 
some  of  them  more  than  once,  in  Shakespeare's  lifetime.  Othello  was  also 
printed  separately  in  1622.  All  these  editions  are  in  quarto  form,  and  are 
commonly  known  as  the  old  or  early  quartos. 


6  THE  LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF 

which  they,  like  himself,  belonged.  The  volume,  however,  ap- 
pears to  have  had  no  proper  editing,  and  every  page  is  dis- 
figured by  the  grossest  typographical  errors.  While  it  is  the 
earliest  and  the  only  authentic  edition  of  the  Plays,  it  cannot 
be  accepted  as  anything  like  an  infallible  authority  in  all 
cases  for  what  Shakespeare  actually  wrote. 


STRATFORD   CHURCH,  WEST    END 


The  volume  just  described  is  commonly  known  as  the  "first 
folio."  A  second  folio  edition,  including  the  same  plays,  ap- 
peared in  1632.  It  contains  some  new  readings,  which  are 


SHAKESPEARE.  7 

probably  nothing  more  than  the  conjectural  emendations  of 
the  unknown  editor. 

A  third  folio  edition  was  issued  in  1664.  This  contains 
the  thirty-six  Plays  of  the  preceding  folios,  with  Pericles  and 
six  dramas*  not  included  in  the  modern  editions.  A  fourth 
and  last  folio  reprint  followed  in  1685. 


HOUSE    IN    HENLEY   STREET,   ABOUT    1820. 

These  four  folios  were  the  only  editions  of  the  Plays  brought 
out  in  the  xyth  century.  The  i8th  century  produced  a  long 
succession  of  editors — Rowe,  Pope,  Theobald,  Hanmer,  War- 
burton,  Johnson,  Steevens,  Capell,  Reed,  Malone,  and  Rann. 
In  1803  appeared  what  is  known  as  "Reed's  Second  Edition 
of  Johnson  and  Steevens,"  in  twenty-one  volumes,  in  which 
were  incorporated  all  the  notes  of  the  preceding  editions. 

*  These  are  The  London  Prodigal ',  Thomns  Lord  Cromwell,  Sir  John  Old- 
castle,  The  Puritan  Widow,  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  and  Locrine.  It  is  al- 
most certain  that  Shakespeare  wrote  none  of  them. 


s 


THE  LIFE  AND  WORKS  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 


This  was  followed  in  1821  by  what  is  now  the  standard  "Va- 
riorum edition,"  also  in  twenty-one  volumes,  mostly  prepared 
by  Malone,  but  completed  and  carried  through  the  press  by 
his  friend  Boswell.  The  most  important  English  editions  of 
"more  recent  date  are  those  of  Knight,  Collier,  Singer,  Staun- 
ton,  Dyce,  Clark  and  Wright,  and  Halliwell.  The  only  Amer- 
ican editions  of  any  critical  value  are  Verplanck's  (1847) 
Hudson's  (1855  and  1881),  White's  (1857-1865  and  1883), 
and  Furness's  ("New  Variorum"  ed.  begun  in  1871). 


STRATFORD   CHURCH,  EAST   END,  WITH    CHAKNEL-HOUSK, 


ARMS   OF   JOHN   SHAKESPEARE 


INTRODUCTION 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


I.   THE    HISTORY    OF    THE    PLAY. 

The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  the  last  on  a  list  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  given  by  Francis  Meres  in  his  Palladis  Tamia,  which 
appeared  in  1598.  In  the  same  year  it  was  entered  as  fol- 
lows on  the  Register  of  the  Stationers'  Company  : — 

"22  July,  1598,  James  Robertes.]  A  booke  of  the  Mar- 
chaunt  of  Venyce,  or  otherwise  called  the  Jewe  of  Venyse. 
Provided  that  yt  bee  not  prynted  by  the  said  James  Robertes. 


I0  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

or  anye  other  whatsoever,  without  lycence  first  had  from  the 
right  honourable  the  Lord  Chamberlen." 

The  company  of  players  to  which  Shakespeare  belonged, 
and  for  which  he  wrote,  were  "the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Ser< 
vants ;"  and  the  above  order  was  meant  to  prohibit  the  pub- 
lication of  the  play  until  the  patron  of  the  company  should 
give  his  permission.  This  he  appears  not  to  have  done 
until  two  years  later,  when  the  following  entry  was  made  in 
the  Register: 

"28  Oct.,  1600,  Tho.  Haies.]  The  booke  of  the  Merchant 
of  Venyce." 

Soon  after  this  entry,  the  play  was  published  by  Heyes,  in 
quarto,  with  the  following  title  : 

The  most  excellent  Historic  of  the  Merchant  \  of  Venice.  \ 
With  the  extreame  crueltie  of  Shylocke  the  lewe  towards  the 
sayd  Merchant,  in  cutting  a  iust  pound  j  of  his  flesh:  and  the 
obtayning  of  Portia  \  by  the  choyse  of  three  |  chests.  As  it 
hath  beene  diuers  times  acted  by  the  Lord  \  Chamberlaine  his  Ser- 
uants.  \  Written  by  William  Shakespeare.  AT  LONDON,  j 
Printed  by  I.  R.,  for  Thomas  Heyes,  |  and  are  to  be  sold  in 
Paules  Church-yard,  at  the  |  signe  of  the  Greene  Dragon.  | 
1600. 

Another  edition,  also  in  quarto,  was  issued  the  same  year, 
by  Roberts,  with  the  following  title: 

THE  |  EXCELLENT  History  of  the  Mer- 1  chant  of  Ven- 
ice. |  With  the  extreme  cruelty  of  Shylocke  \  the  lew  towards 
the  saide  Merchant,  in  cut-  |  ting  a  iust  pound  of  his  flesh. 
And  the  obtaining  \  of  Portia,  by  the  choyse  of  three  Caskets.  \ 
Written  by  W.  SHAKESPEARE.  |  Printed  by  J.  Roberts,  1600. 

The  play  was  not  reprinted  until  it  appeared  in  the  folio 
of  1623,  where  the  text  varies  but  little  from  the  quartos. 

Henslowe's  Diary,  under  the  date  "25  of  aguste,  1594," 
records  the  performance  of  "  the  Venesyon  comodey,"  which 
is  marked  ne,  as  a  new  play.  Some  critics  take  this  to  be 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  since  the  company  of  players  to  which 


INTRODUCTION.  !  t 

Shakespeare  belonged  was  then  acting  at  the  theatre  of  which 
Henslowe  was  chief  manager;  but  we  may  be  sure  from  in- 
ternal evidence  that  the  Merchant  is  a  later  play  than  the 
M.  N.  D.  If  the  latter  (see  our  ed.  p.  10)  was  written  in 
1594,  the  former  cannot  be  earlier  than  1596. 

The  Merchant  was  played  before  James  I.  on  Shrove  Sun- 
day, and  again  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  in  1605.  The  following 
entries  in  the  Accounts  of  the  Master  of  Revels  are  unques- 
tionably forgeries;  but  Halliwell  (Outlines,  6th  ed.  vol.  ii.  p. 
161)  has  shown  that  the  information  they  contain  is  never- 
theless genuine : 

"  By  his  Mati8  Plaiers.  On  Shrousunday  a  play  of  the 
Marchant  of  Venis." 

"  By  his  Matu  Players.  On  Shroutusday  a  play  cauled 
the  Martchant  of  Venis  againe,  comanded  by  the  Kings 
Matie." 

The  name  of  "  Shaxberd"  as  "the  poet  which  made  the 
play"  is  added  in  the  margin  opposite  both  entries. 

II.  THE    SOURCES    OF   THE    PLOT. 

The  plot  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  composed  of  two  dis- 
tinct stories  :  that  of  the  bond,  and  that  of  the  caskets.  Both 
these  fables  are  found  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  a  Latin  com- 
pilation of  allegorical  tales,  which  had  been  translated  into 
English  as  early  as  the  time  of  Henry  VI.  It  is  almost  cer- 
tain, however,  that  the  source  whence  Shakespeare,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  drew  the  incidents  connected  with  the 
bond,  was  a  story  in  //  Pecorone,  a  collection  of  tales  by  Gio- 
vanni Fiorentino,  first  published  at  Milan  in  1558,  though 
written  nearly  two  hundred  years  before.  In  this  story  we 
have  a  rich  lady  at  Belmont,  who  is  to  be  won  on  certain  con- 
ditions ;  and  she  is  finally  the  prize  of  a  young  merchant, 
whose  friend,  having  become  surety  for  him  to  a  Jew  under 
the  same  penalty  as  in  the  play,  is  rescued  from  the  forfeiture 
by  the  adroitness  of  the  married  lady,  who  is  disguised  as  a 


12  THE  MEKCHANl^  OF   VENICE. 

lawyer.  The  pretended  judge  receives,  as  in  the  comedy, 
her  marriage  ring  as  a  gratuity,  and  afterwards  banters  her 
husband,  in  the  same  way,  upon  the  loss  of  it.  An  English 
translation  of  the  book  was  extant  in  Shakespeare's  time. 

Possibly  the  dramatist  was  somewhat  indebted  to  The  Ora- 
tor, translated  from  the  French  of  Alexander  Silvayn  (Lon- 
don, 1596).  Portions  of  the  95th  Declamation  in  this  book 
(see  page  168  below)  are  strikingly  like  some  of  Shylock's 
speeches  at  the  trial.  Certain  critics  believe  that  the  poet 
also  made  some  use  of  the  ballad  of  Gernutus  (printed  in 
Percy's  Reliques],  which  is  probably  older  than  the  play. 

It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  legends  of  the  bond  and 
the  caskets  had  been  blended  in  dramatic  form  before  Shake- 
speare began  to  write  for  the  stage.  Stephen  Gosson,  a  Pu- 
ritan author,  in  his  Schoole  of  Abuse,  published  in  1579,  excepts 
a  few  plays  from  the  sweeping  condemnation  of  his  "plesaunt 
inuective  against  Poets,  Pipers,  Plaiers,  Jesters,  and  such-like 
caterpillers  of  a  Commonwelth."  Among  these  exceptions 
he  mentions  '•'•The  yew,  and  Ptolome,  showne  at  the  Bull ;  the 
one  representing  the  greedinesse  of  worldly  chusers,  and  the 
bloody  minds  of  usurers  ;  the  other  very  lively  describing  howe 
seditious  estates  with  their  owne  devises,  false  friends  with 
their  owne  swoords,  and  rebellious  commons  in  their  owne 
snares,  are  overthrowne."  We  have  no  other  knowledge  of 
this  play  of  TJie  Jew  ;  but  the  nationality  of  its  hero  and  the 
double  moral,  agreeing  so  exactly  with  that  of  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  render  it  probable  that  the  plots  of  the  two  dramas 
were  essentially  the  same  ;  and  that  Shakespeare  in  this  in- 
stance, as  in  others,  worked  upon  some  rough  model  already 
prepared  for  him.  The  question,  however,  is  not  of  great  im 
portance.  As  Staunton  remarks,  "  Be  the  merit  of  the  fable 
whose  it  may,  the  characters,  the  language,  the  poetry,  and 
the  sentiment  are  his,  and  his  alone.  To  no  other  writer  of 
the  period  could  we  be  indebted  for  the  charming  combina 
tion  of  womanly  grace,  and  dignity,  and  playfulness,  which  is 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

found  in  Portia ;  for  the  exquisite  picture  of  friendship  be- 
tween Bassanio  and  Antonio  ;  for  the  profusion  of  poetic 
beauties  scattered  over  the  play ;  and  for  the  masterly  de- 
lineation of  that  perfect  type  of  Judaism  in  olden  times,  the 
character  of  Shylock  himself." 

i 

III.  CRITICAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAY. 
[From  SchlegeFs  "Lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature."*] 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  most  per- 
fect works  :  popular  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  calcu- 
lated to  produce  the  most  powerful  effect  on  the  stage,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  wonder  of  ingenuity  and  art  for  the  re- 
flecting critic.  Shylock  the  Jew  is  one  of  the  inimitable  mas- 
terpieces of  characterization  which  are  to  be  found  only  in 
Shakespeare.  It  is  easy  for  both  poet  and  player  to  exhibit 
a  caricature  of  national  sentiments,  modes  of  speaking,  and 
gestures.  Shylock,  however,  is  everything  but  a  common 
Jew :  he  possesses  a  strongly  marked  and  original  individu- 
ality, and  yet  we  perceive  a  light  touch  of  Judaism  in  every- 
thing he  says  or  does.  We  almost  fancy  we  can  hear  a  slight 
whisper  of  the  Jewish  accent  even  in  the  written  words,  such 
as  we  sometimes  still  find  in  the  higher  classes,  notwithstand- 
ing their  social  refinement.  In  tranquil  moments,  all  that  is 
foreign  to  the  European  blood  and  Christian  sentiments  is 
less  perceptible,  but  in  passion  the  national  stamp  comes  out 
more  strongly  marked.  All  these  inimitable  niceties  the  fin- 
ished art  of  a  great  actor  can  alone  properly  express.  Shy- 
lock  is  a  man  of  information,  in  his  own  way  even  a  thinker, 
only  he  has  not  discovered  the  region  where  human  feelings 
dwell ;  his  morality  is  founded  on  the  disbelief  in  goodness 
and  magnanimity.  The  desire  to  avenge  the  wrongs  and  in- 
dignities heaped  upon  his  nation  is,  after  avarice,  his  stron- 
gest spring  of  action.  His  hate  is  naturally  directed  chiefly 

*  From  Black's  translation,  with  a  few  verbal  changes.     I  have  not  had 
the  opportunity  of  comparing  it  with  the  original  German. 


I4  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

against  those  Christians  who  are  actuated  by  truly  Christian 
sentiments :  a  disinterested  love  of  our  neighbour  seems  to 
him  the  most  unrelenting  persecution  of  the  Jews.  The  let- 
ter of  the  law  is  his  idol ;  he  refuses  to  lend  an  ear  to  the 
voice  of  mercy,  which,  from  the  mouth  of  Portia,  speaks  to 
him  with  heavenly  eloquence  :  he  insists  on  rigid  and  inflex- 
ible justice,  and  at  last  it  recoils  on  his  own  head.  Thus  he 
becomes  a  symbol  of  the  general  history  of  his  unfortunate 
nation.  The  melancholy  and  self-sacrificing  magnanimity  of 
Antonio  is  affectingly  sublime.  Like  a  princely  merchant, 
he  is  surrounded  with  a  whole  train  of  noble  friends.  The 
contrast  which  this  forms  to  the  selfish  cruelty  of  the  usurer 
Shylock  was  necessary  to  redeem  the  honour  of  human  na- 
ture. The  danger  which,  almost  to  the  close  of  the  fourth 
act,  hangs  over  Antonio,  and  which  the  imagination  is  almost 
afraid  to  approach,  would  fill  the  mind  with  too  painful  anxie- 
ty, if  the  poet  did  not  also  provide  for  its  recreation  and  di- 
version. This  is  effected  in  an  especial  manner  by  the  scenes 
at  Portia's  country-seat,  which  transport  the  spectator  into 
quite  another  world.  And  yet  they  are  closely  connected 
with  the  main  business  by  the  chain  of  cause  and  effect. 
Bassanio's  preparations  for  his  courtship  are  the  cause  of 
Antonio's  subscribing  the  dangerous  bond  ;  and  Portia,  by 
the  counsel  and  advice  of  her  kinsman,  a  famous  lawyer,  ef- 
fects the  safety  of  her  lover's  friend.  But  the  relations  of 
the  dramatic  composition  are  admirably  observed  in  yet  an- 
other respect.  The  trial  between  Shylock  and  Antonio  is  in- 
deed recorded  as  being  a  real  event,  but  still,  for  all  that,  it 
must  ever  remain  an  unheard-of  and  singular  case.  Shake- 
speare has  therefore  associated  it  with  a  love  intrigue  not 
less  extraordinary  :  the  one  consequently  is  rendered  natural 
and  probable  by  means  of  the  other.  A  rich,  beautiful,  and 
intellectual  heiress,  who  can  only  be  won  by  solving  the  rid- 
dle ;  the  locked  caskets  ;  the  foreign  princes,  who  come  to 
try  the  venture ; — all  this  powerfully  excites  the  imagination 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

with  the  splendour  of  an  olden  tale  of  marvels.  The  two 
scenes  in  which,  first  the  Prince  of  Morocco,  in  the  language 
of  Eastern  hyperbole,  and  then  the  self-conceited  Prince  of 
Arragon,  make  their  choice  among  the  caskets,  serve  merely 
to  raise  our  curiosity,  and  give  emplbyment  to  our  wits  ;  but 
on  the  third,  where  the  two  lovers  stand  trembling  before  the 
inevitable  choice,  which  in  one  moment  must  unite  or  sepa- 
rate them  for  ever,  Shakespeare  has  lavished  all  the  charms 
of  feeling,  all  the  magic  of  poesy.  We  share  in  the  rapture 
of  Portia  and  Bassanio  at  the  fortunate  choice  :  we  easily 
conceive  why  they  are  so  fond  of  each  other,  for  they  are 
both  most  deserving  of  love.  The  trial  scene,  with  which  the 
fourth  act  is  occupied,  is  in  itself  a  perfect  drama,  concentrat- 
ing in  itself  the  interest  of  the  whole.  The  knot  is  now  un- 
tied, and,  according  to  the  common  ideas  of  theatrical  satis- 
faction, the  curtain  ought  to  drop.  But  the  poet  was  unwill- 
ing to  dismiss  his  audience  with  the  gloomy  impressions  which 
Antonio's  acquittal,  effected  with  so  much  difficulty  and  con- 
trary to  all  expectation,  and  the  condemnation  of  Shylock, 
were  calculated  to  leave  behind  them  ;  he  has  therefore  add- 
ed the  fifth  act  by  way  of  a  musical  afterpiece  in  the  play 
itself.  The  episode  of  Jessica,  the  fugitive  daughter  of  the 
Jew,  in  whom  Shakespeare  has  contrived  to  throw  a  veil  of 
sweetness  over  the  national  features,  and  the  artifice  by  which 
Portia  and  her  companion  are  enabled  to  rally  their  newly- 
married  husbands,  supply  him  with  the  necessary  materials. 
The  scene  opens  with  the  playful  prattling  of  two  lovers  in  a 
summer  evening  ;  it  is  followed  by  soft  music,  and  a  rapturous 
eulogy  on  this  powerful  disposer  of  the  human  mind  and  the 
world  ;  the  principal  characters  then  make  their  appearance, 
and,  after  a  simulated  quarrel,  which  is  gracefully  maintained, 
the  whole  ends  with  the  most  exhilaratin  mirth. 


[From  Mrs.Jamesotfs  "Characteristics  of  Wo 

Portia,  Isabella,  Beatrice,  and  Rosalind  may  be  classed  to- 


x6  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

gether,  as  characters  of  intellect,  because,  when  compared 
with  others,  they  are  at  once  distinguished  by  their  mental 
superiority.  In  Portia,  it  is  intellect  kindled  into  romance 
by  a  poetical  imagination  ;  in  Isabel,  it  is  intellect  elevated 
by  religious  principle  ;  in  Beatrice,  intellect  animated  by  spir- 
it ;  in  Rosalind,  intellect  softened  by  sensibility.  The  wit 
which  is  lavished  on  each  is  profound,  or  pointed,  or  spark- 
ling, or  playful — but  always  feminine  ;  like  spirits  distilled 
from  flowers,  it  always  reminds  us  of  its  origin  ;  it  is  a  vola- 
tile essence,  sweet  as  powerful ;  and  to  pursue  the  compari- 
son a  step  further,  the  wit  of  Portia  is  like  ottar  of  roses,  rich 
and  concentrated ;  that  of  Rosalind,  like  cotton  dipped  in 
aromatic  vinegar  ;  the  wit  of  Beatrice  is  like  sal  volatile  ;  and 
that  of  Isabel,  like  the  incense  wafted  to  heaven.  Of  these 
four  exquisite  characters,  considered  as  dramatic  and  poetic- 
al conceptions,  it  is  difficult  to  pronounce  which  is  most  per- 
fect in  its  way,  most  admirably  drawn,  most  highly  finished. 
But  if  considered  in  another  point  of  view,  as  women  and 
individuals,  as  breathing  realities,  clothed  in  flesh  and  blood, 
I  believe  we  must  assign  the  first  rank  to  Portia,  as  uniting 
in  herself,  in  a  more  eminent  degree  than  the  others,  all  the 
noblest  and  most  lovable  qualities  that  ever  met  together 
in  woman,  and  presenting  a  complete  personification  of  Pe- 
trarch's exquisite  epitome  of  female  perfection — 

II  vago  spirito  ardento, 
E'n  alto  intelletto,  un  puro  core. 

Shylock  is  not  a  finer  or  more  finished  character  in  his 
way,  than  Portia  is  in  hers.  These  two  splendid  figures  are 
worthy  of  each  other  ;  worthy  of  being  placed  together  with- 
in the  same  rich  framework  of  enchanting  poetry,  and  glori- 
ous and  graceful  forms.  She  hangs  beside  the  terrible  inex- 
orable Jew,  the  brilliant  lights  of  her  character  set  off  by  the 
shadowy  power  of  his,  like  a  magnificent  beauty-breathing 
Titian  by  the  side  of  a  gorgeous  Rembrandt. 

Portia  is  endued  with  her  own  share  of  those  delightful 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

qualities  which  Shakespeare  has  lavished  on  many  of  his  fe- 
male characters  ;  but,  besides  the  dignity,  the  sweetness,  and 
tenderness  which  should  distinguish  her  sex  generally,  she  is 
individualized  by  qualities  peculiar  to  herself;  by  her  high 
mental  powers,  her  enthusiasm  of  temperament,  her  decision 
of  purpose,  and  her  buoyancy  of  spirit.  These  are  innate ; 
she  has  other  distinguishing  qualities  more  external,  and 
which  are  the  result  of  the  circumstances  in  which  she  is 
placed.  Thus  she  is  the  heiress  of  a  princely  name  and 
countless  wealth ;  a  train  of  obedient  pleasures  have  ever 
waited  round  her ;  and  from  infancy  she  has  breathed  an  at- 
mosphere redolent  of  perfume  and  blandishment.  Accord- 
ingly there  is  a  commanding  grace,  a  high-bred,  airy  elegance, 
a  spirit  of  magnificence  in  all  that  she  does  and  says,  as  one 
to  whom  splendour  had  been  familiar  from  her  very  birth. 
She  treads  as  though  her  footsteps  had  been  among  marble 
palaces,  beneath  roofs  of  fretted  gold,  o'er  cedar  floors,  and 
pavements  of  jasper  and  porphyry — amid  gardens  full  of  stat- 
ues, and  flowers,  and  fountains,  and  haunting  music.  She  is 
full  of  penetrative  wisdom,  and  genuine  tenderness,  and  live- 
ly wit ;  but  as  she  has  never  known  want,  or  grief,  or  fear,  or 
disappointment,  her  wisdom  is  without  a  touch  of  the  sombre 
or  the  sad  ;  her  affections  are  all  mixed  up  with  faith,  hope, 
and  joy ;  and  her  wit  has  not  a  particle  of  malevolence  or 
causticity.  .  . 

The  sudden  plan  which  she  forms  for  the  release  of  her 
husband's  friend,  her  disguise,  and  her  deportment  as  the 
young  and  learned  doctor,  would  appear  forced  and  improb- 
able in  any  other  woman,  but  in  Portia  are  the  simple  and 
natural  result  of  her  character.*  The  quickness  with  which 
she  perceives  the  legal  advantage  which  may  be  taken  of  the 
circumstances,  the  spirit  of  adventure  with  which  she  engages 

*  In  that  age,  delicate  points  of  law  were  not  determined  by  the  ordi- 
nary judges  of  the  provinces,  but  by  doctors  of  law,  who  were  called  from 
Bologna,  Padua,  and  other  places  celebrated  for  their  legal  colleges. 

B 


1 8  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

in  the  masquerading,  and  the  decision,  firmness,  and  intelli- 
gence with  which  she  executes  her  generous  purpose,  are  all 
in  perfect  keeping,  and  nothing  appears  forced — nothing  as 
introduced  merely  for  theatrical  effect. 

But  all  the  finest  parts  of  Portia's  character  are  brought  to 
bear  in  the  trial  scene.  There  she  shines  forth,  all  her  di- 
vine self.  Her  intellectual  powers,  her  elevated  sense  of  re- 
ligion, her  high  honourable  principles,  her  best  feelings  as  a 
woman,  are  all  displayed.  She  maintains  at  first  a  calm  self- 
command,  as  one  sure  of  carrying  her  point  in  the  end  ;  yet 
the  painful  heart-thrilling  uncertainty  in  which  she  keeps  the 
whole  court,  until  suspense  verges  upon  agony,  is  not  con- 
trived for  effect  merely  ;  it  is  necessary  and  inevitable.  She 
has  two  objects  in  view  :  to  deliver  her  husband's  friend,  and 
to  maintain  her  husband's  honour  by  the  discharge  of  his  just 
debt,  though  paid  out  of  her  own  wealth  ten  times  over.  It 
is  evident  that  she  would  rather  owe  the  safety  of  Antonio  to 
anything  rather  than  the  legal  quibble  with  which  her  cousin 
Bellario  has  armed  her,  and  which  she  reserves  as  a  last  re- 
source. Thus  all  the  speeches  addressed  to  Shylock  in  the 
first  instance  are  either  direct  or  indirect  experiments  on  his 
temper  and  feelings.  She  must  be  understood  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end  as  examining,  with  intense  anxiety,  the 
effect  of  her  own  words  on  his  mind  and  countenance  ;  as 
watching  for  that  relenting  spirit,  which  she  hopes  to  awaken 
either  by  reason  or  persuasion.  She  begins  by  an  appeal  to 
his  mercy,  in  that  matchless  piece  of  eloquence,  which,  with 
an  irresistible  and  solemn  pathos,  falls  upon  the  heart  like 
"gentle  dew  from  heaven  :" — but  in  vain;  for  that  blessed 
dew  drops  not  more  fruitless  and  unfelt  on  the  parched  sand 
of  the  desert,  than  do  these  heavenly  words  upon  the  ear  of 
Shylock.  She  next  attacks  his  avarice  : 

Shylock,  there's  thrice  thy  money  offered  thee  ! 
Then  she  appeals,  in  the  same  breath,  both  to  his  avarice  and 
his  pity: 


INTRODUCTION.  l() 

Be  merciful ! 
Take  thrice  thy  money.     Bid  me  tear  the  bond. 

All  that  she  says  afterwards — her  strong  expressions,  which 
are  calculated  to  strike  a  shuddering  horror  through  the 
nerves,  the  reflections  she  interposes,  her  delays  and  circum- 
locution to  give  time  for  any  latent  feeling  of  commiseration 
to  display  itself, — all,  all  are  premeditated,  and  tend  in  the 
same  manner  to  the  object  she  has  in  view. 

So  unwilling  is  her  sanguine  and  generous  spirit  to  resign 
all  hope,  or  to  believe  that  humanity  is  absolutely  extinct  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Jew,  that  she  calls  on  Antonio,  as  a  last  re- 
source, to  speak  for  himself.  His  gentle,  yet  manly  resigna- 
tion, the  deep  pathos  of  his  farewell,  and  the  affectionate  al- 
lusion to  herself  in  his  last  address  to  Bassanio — 

Commend  me  to  your  honourable  wife  ; 

Say  how  I  lov'd  you,  speak  me  fair  in  death,  etc. — 

are  well  calculated  to  swell  that  emotion,  which  through  the 
whole  scene  must  have  been  labouring  suppressed  within  her 
heart. 

At  length  the  crisis  arrives,  for  patience  and  womanhood 
can  endure  no  longer ;  and  when  Shylock,  carrying  his  sav- 
age bent  "  to  the  last  hour  of  act,"  springs  on  his  victim — "A 
sentence  !  come,  prepare  !" — then  the  smothered  scorn,  indig- 
nation, and  disgust  burst  forth  with  an  impetuosity  which  in- 
terferes with  the  judicial  solemnity  she  had  at  first  affected, 
particularly  in  the  speech — 

Therefore,  prepare  thee  to  cut  off  the  flesh,  etc. 

But  she  afterwards  recovers  her  propriety,  and  triumphs  with 
a  cooler  scorn  and  a  more  self-possessed  exultation. 

It  is  clear  that,  to  feel  the  full  force  and  dramatic  beauty 
of  this  marvellous  scene,  we  must  go  along  with  Portia  as 
well  as  with  Shylock  ;  we  must  understand  her  concealed 
purpose,  keep  in  mind  her  noble  motives,  and  pursue  in  our 
fancy  the  under  current  of  feeling,  working  in  her  mind 


20  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

throughout.  The  terror  and  the  power  of  Shylock's  charac- 
ter, his  deadly  and  inexorable  malice,  would  be  too  oppress- 
ive, the  pain  and  pity  too  intolerable,  and  the  horror  of  the 
possible  issue  too  overwhelming,  but  for  the  intellectual  re- 
lief afforded  by  this  double  source  of  interest  and  contempla- 
tion. .  .  . 

A  prominent  feature  in  Portia's  character  is  that  confiding, 
buoyant  spirit,  which  mingles  with  all  her  thoughts  and  affec- 
tions. And  here  let  me  observe,  that  I  never  yet  met  in  real 
life,  nor  ever  read  in  tale  or  history,  of  any  woman,  distin- 
guished for  intellect  of  the  highest  order,  who  was  not  also 
remarkable  for  this  trusting  spirit,  this  hopefulness  and  cheer- 
fulness of  temper,  which  is  compatible  with  the  most  serious 
habits  of  thought,  and  the  most  profound  sensibility.  Lady 
Wortley  Montagu  was  one  instance  ;  and  Madame  de  Stael 
furnishes  another  much  more  memorable.  In  her  Corinne, 
whom  she  drew  from  herself,  this  natural  brightness  of  temper 
is  a  prominent  part  of  the  character.  A  disposition  to  doubt, 
to  suspect,  and  to  despond,  in  the  young,  argues,  in  general, 
some  inherent  weakness,  moral  or  physical,  or  some  miser- 
able and  radical  error  of  education  :  in  the  old,  it  is  one  of 
the  first  symptoms  of  age  ;  it  speaks  of  the  influence  of  sor- 
row and  experience,  and  foreshows  the  decay  of  the  stronger 
and  more  generous  powers  of  the  soul.  Portia's  strength  of 
intellect  takes  a  natural  tinge  from  the  flush  and  bloom  of 
her  young  and  prosperous  existence,  and  from  her  fervent 
imagination.  In  the  casket-scene,  she  fears  indeed  the  issue 
of  the  trial,  on  which  more  than  her  life  is  hazarded  ;  but 
while  she  trembles,  her  hope  is  stronger  than  her  fear 

Her  subsequent  surrender  of  herself  in  heart  and  soul,  of 
her  maiden  freedom,  and  her  vast  possessions,  can  never  be 
read  without  deep  emotions  ;  for  not  only  all  the  tenderness 
and  delicacy  of  a  devoted  woman  are  here  blended  with  all 
the  dignity  which  becomes  the  princely  heiress  of  Belmont, 
but  the  serious,  measured  self-possession  of  her  address  to 


INTRODUCTION. 


21 


her  lover,  when  all  suspense  is  over,  and  all  concealment  su- 
perfluous, is  most  beautifully  consistent  with  the  character. 
It  is,  in  tiuth,  an  awful  moment,  that  in  which  a  gifted  woman 
first  discovers  that,  besides  talents  and  powers,  she  has  also 
passions  and  affections ;  when  she  first  begins  to  suspect  their 
vast  importance  in  the  sum  of  her  existence  ;  when  she  first 
confesses  that  her  happiness  is  no  longer  in  her  own  keeping, 
but  is  surrendered  forever  and  forever  into  the  dominion  of 
another !  The  possession  of  uncommon  powers  of  mind  is 
so  far  from  affording  relief  or  resource  in  the  first  intoxica- 
ting surprise — I  had  almost  said  terror — of  such  a  revolution, 
that  they  render  it  more  intense.  The  sources  of  thought 
multiply  beyond  calculation  the  sources  of  feeling  ;  and  min- 
gled, they  rush  together,  a  torrent  deep  as  strong.  Because 
Portia  is  endued  with  that  enlarged  comprehension  which 
looks  before  and  after,  she  does  not  feel  the  less,  but  the 
more  ;  because  from  the  height  of  her  commanding  intellect 
she  can  contemplate  the  force,  the  tendency,  the  consequences 
of  her  own  sentiments — because  she  is  fully  sensible  of  her 
own  situation,  and  the  value  of  all  she  concedes — the  conces- 
sion is  not  made  with  less  entireness  and  devotion  of  heart,  • 
less  confidence  in  the  truth  and  worth  of  her  lover,  than  when 
Juliet,  in  a  similar  moment,  but  without  any  such  intrusive  re- 
flections— any  check  but  the  instinctive  delicacy  of  her  sex, 
flings  herself  and  her  fortunes  at  the  feet  of  her  lover : 
And  all  my  fortunes  at  thy  foot  I'll  lay, 
And  follow  thee,  my  lord,  through  all  the  world.* 

In  Portia's  confession — "You  see  me,  Lord  Bassanio,  where 
I  stand,"  etc. — which  is  not  breathed  from  a  moonlit  balcony, 
but  spoken  openly  in  the  presence  of  her  attendants  and  vas- 
sals, there  is  nothing  of  the  passionate  self-abandonment  of 
Juliet,  nor  of  trie  artless  simplicity  of  Miranda,  but  a  con- 
sciousness and  a  tender  seriousness,  approaching  to  solemni- 
ty, which  are  not  less  touching. 

*  Romeo  and  Jidiet,  ii.  2. 


22  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

We  must  also  remark  that  the  sweetness,  the  solicitude, 
the  subdued  fondness  which  she  afterwards  displays,  relative 
to  the  letter,  are  as  true  to  the  softness  of  her  sex,  as  the  gen- 
erous self-denial  with  which  she  urges  the  departure  of  Bas- 
sanio  (having  first  given  him  a  husband's  right  over  herself 
and  all  her  countless  wealth)  is  consistent  with  a  reflecting 
mind,  and  a  spirit  at  once  tender,  reasonable,  and  magnani- 
mous. .  . 

In  the  last  act,  Shylock  and  his  machinations  being  dis- 
missed from  our  thoughts,  and  the  rest  of  the  dramatis  per- 
sona assembled  together  at  Belmont,  all  our  interest  and  all 
our  attention  are  riveted  on  Portia,  and  the  conclusion  leaves 
the  most  delightful  impression  on  the  fancy.  The  playful 
equivoque  of  the  rings,  the  sportive  trick  she  puts  on  her 
husband,  and  her  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  jest,  which  she 
checks  just  as  it  is  proceeding  beyond  the  bounds  of  proprie- 
ty, show  how  little  she  was  displeased  by  the  sacrifice  of  her 
gift,  and  are  all  consistent  with  her  bright  and  buoyant  spirit. 
In  conclusion,  when  Portia  invites  her  company  to  enter  her 
palace  to  refresh  themselves  after  their  travels,  and  talk  over 
"  these  events  at  full,"  the  imagination,  unwilling  to  lose  sight 
of  the  brilliant  group,  follows  them  in  gay  procession  from  the 
lovely  moonlight  garden  to  marble  halls  and  princely  revels, 
to  splendor  and  festive  mirth,  to  love  and  happiness.  .  . 

It  is  observable  that  something  of  the  intellectual  brilliance 
of  Portia  is  reflected  on  the  other  female  characters  of  The 
Merchant  of  Venice  so  as  to  preserve  in  the  midst  of  contrast 
a  certain  harmony  and  keeping.  Thus  Jessica,  though  prop- 
erly kept  subordinate,  is  certainly 

A  most  beautiful  pagan — a  most  sweet  Jew. 

She  cannot  be  called  a  sketch — or  if  a  sketch,  she  is  like  one 
of  those  dashed  off  in  glowing  colours  from  the  rainbow  pal- 
ette of  a  Rubens  ;  she  has  a  rich  tinge  of  Orientalism  shed 
over  her,  worthy  of  her  Eastern  origin.  In  another  play,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

in  any  other  companionship  than  that  of  the  matchless  Por- 
tia, Jessica  would  make  a  very  beautiful  heroine  of  herself. 
Nothing  can  be  more  poetically,  more  classically  fanciful  and 
elegant  than  the  scenes  between  her  and  Lorenzo  —  the  cel- 
ebrated moonlight  dialogue,  for  instance,  which  we  all  have 
by  heart.  Every  sentiment  she  utters  interests  us  for  her — 
more  particularly  her  bashful  self-reproach,  when  flying  in  the 
disguise  of  a  page  : 

I  am  glad  'tis  night,  you  do  not  look  upon  me, 
For  I  am  much  asham'd  of  my  exchange  ; 
But  love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 
The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit ; 
For  if  they  could,  Cupid  himself  would  blush 
To  see  me  thus  transformed  to  a  boy. 

And  the  enthusiastic  and  generous  testimony  to  the  superior 
graces  and  accomplishments  of  Portia  comes  with  a  peculiar 
grace  from  her  lips  : 

Why,  if  two  gods  should  play  some  heavenly  match, 
And  on  the  wager  lay  two  earthly  women, 
And  Portia  one,  there  must  be  something  else 
Pawned  with  the  other ;  for  the  poor  rude  world 
Hath  not  her  fellow. 

We  should  not,  however,  easily  pardon  her  for  cheating  her 
father  with  so  much  indifference  but  for  the  perception  that 
Shylock  values  his  daughter  far  beneath  his  wealth  : 

I  would  my  daughter  were  dead  at  my  foot,  and  the  jewels  in  her  ear  J 
— would  she  were  hearsed  at  my  foot,  and  the  ducats  in  her  coffin  ! 

Nerissa  is  a  good  specimen  of  a  common  genus  of  charac- 
ters ;  she  is  a  clever  confidential  waiting-woman,  who  has 
caught  a  little  of  her  lady's  elegance  and  romance  ;  she  af- 
fects to  be  lively  and  sententious,  falls  in  love,  and  makes 
her  favour  conditional  on  the  fortune  of  the  caskets,  and,  in 
short,  mimics  her  mistress  with  good  emphasis  and  discretion. 
Nerissa  and  the  gay,  talkative  Gratiano  are  as  well  matched 
as  the  incomparable  Portia  and  her  magnificent  and  capti- 
vating lover. 


24  THE   MERCHANT  OF    VENICE. 

[From  Hazlitfs  "  Characters  of  Shakespear* s  Plays.*] 
This  is  a  play  that  in  spite  of  the  change  of  manners  and 
prejudices  still  holds  undisputed  possession  of  the  stage.  .  .  . 
Jn  proportion  as  Shylock  has  ceased  to  be  a  popular  bug- 
bear, "baited  with  the  rabble's  curse,"  he  becomes  a  half- 
favourite  with  the  philosophical  part  of  the  audience,  who 
are  disposed  to  think  that  Jewish  revenge  is  at  least  as  good 
as  Christian  injuries.  Shylock  is  a  good  hater;  "a  man  no 
less  sinned  against  than  sinning."  If  he  carries  his  revenge 
too  far,  yet  he  has  strong  grounds  for  "  the  lodged  hate  he 
bears  Antonio,"  which  he  explains  with  equal  force  of  elo- 
quence and  reason.  He  seems  the  depositary  of  the  ven- 
geance of  his  race ;  and  though  the  long  habit  of  brooding 
over  daily  insults  and  injuries  has  crusted  over  his  temper 
with  inveterate  misanthropy,  and  hardened  him  against  the 
contempt  of  mankind,  this  adds  but  little  to  the  triumphant 
pretensions  of  his  enemies.  There  is  a  strong,  quick,  and 
deep  sense  of  justice  mixed  up  with  the  gall  and  bitterness 
of  his  resentment.  The  constant  apprehension  of  being 
burnt  alive,  plundered,  banished,  reviled,  and  trampled  on, 
might  be  supposed  to  sour  the  most  forbearing  nature,  and 
to  take  something  from  that  "milk  of  human  kindness"  with 
which  his  persecutors  contemplated  his  indignities.  The 
desire  of  revenge  is  almost  inseparable  from  the  sense  of 
wrong  ;  and  we  can  hardly  help  sympathizing  with  the  proud 
spirit  hid  beneath  his  "Jewish  gaberdine," stung  to  madness 
by  repeated  undeserved  provocations,  and  labouring  to  throw 
off  the  load  of  obloquy  and  oppression  heaped  upon  him  and 
all  his  tribe  by  one  desperate  act  of  "lawful"  revenge,  till 
the  ferociousness  of  the  means  by  which  he  is  to  execute  his 
purpose,  and  the  pertinacity  with  which  he  adheres  to  it,  turn 
us  against  him  ;  but  even  at  last,  when  disappointed  of  the 

*  Characters  of  Shakespear1  s  PIays,\)y  William  Hazlitt  (London,  1817), 
p.  269  fol. 


INTRODUCTION.  25 

sanguinary  revenge  with  which  he  had  glutted  his  hopes,  and 
exposed  to  beggary  and  contempt  by  the  letter  of  the  law 
on  which  he  had  insisted  with  so  little  remorse,  we  pity  him, 
and  think  him  hardly  dealt  with  by  his  judges.  In  all  his 
answers  and  retorts  upon  his  adversaries,  he  has  the  best 
not  only  of  the  argument  but  of  the  question,  reasoning  on 
their  own  principles  and  practice.  They  are  so  far  from  al- 
lowing of  any  measure  of  equal  dealing,  of  common  justice 
or  humanity  between  themselves  and  the  Jew,  that  even 
when  they  come  to  ask  a  favour  of  him,  and  Shylock  re- 
minds them  that  on  such  a  day  they  spit  upon  him,  another 
spurned  him,  another  called  him  clog,  and  for  these  courte- 
sies they  request  he'll  lend  them  so  much  money,  Antonio, 
his  old  enemy,  instead  of  any  acknowledgment  of  the  shrewd- 
ness and  justice  of  his  remonstrance,  which  would  have  been 
preposterous  in  a  respectable  Catholic  merchant  in  those 
times,  threatens  him  with  a  repetition  of  the  same  treat- 
ment : 

I  am  as  like  to  call  thee  so  again, 

To  spit  on  thee  again,  to  spurn  thee  too. 

After  this,  the  appeal  to  the  Jew's  mercy,  as  if  there  were 
any  common  principle  of  right  and  wrong  between  them,  is 
the  rankest  hypocrisy  or  the  blindest  prejudice.  .  .  . 

The  whole  of  the  trial-scene,  both  before  and  after  the  en- 
trance of  Portia,  is  a  masterpiece  of  dramatic  skill.  The 
legal  acuteness,  the  passionate  declamations,  the  sound  max- 
ims of  jurisprudence,  the  wit  and  irony  interspersed  in  it,  the 
fluctuations  of  hope  and  fear  in  the  different  persons,  and 
the  completeness  and  suddenness  of  the  catastrophe,  cannot 
be  surpassed.  Shylock,  who  is  his  own  counsel,  defends 
himself  well,  and  is  triumphant  on  all  the  general  topics 
that  are  urged  against  him,  and  only  fails  through  a  legal 
flaw.  .  .  .  The  keenness  of  his  revenge  awakes  all  his  facul- 
ties ;  and  he  beats  back  all  opposition  to  his  purpose,  wheth- 
er grave  or  gay,  whether  of  wit  or  argument,  with  an  equal 


2 6  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

degree  of  earnestness  and  self-possession.  His  character  is 
displayed  as  distinctly  in  other  less  prominent  parts  of  the 
play,  and  we  may  collect  from  a  few  sentences  the  history 
of  his  life — his  descent  and  origin,  his  thrift  and  domestic 
economy,  his  affection  for  his  daughter,  whom  he  loves  next 
to  his  wealth,  his  courtship  and  his  first  present  to  Leah  his 
wife!  "I  would  not  have  given  it  (the  ring  which  he  first 
gave  her)  for  a  wilderness  of  monkeys !"  What  a  fine  He- 
braism is  implied  in  this  expression  !  .  .  . 

When  we  first  went  to  see  Mr.  Kean  in  Shylock,  we  ex- 
pected to  see,  what  we  had  been  used  to  see,  a  decrepit  old 
man,  bent  with  age  and  ugly  with  mental  deformity,  grinning 
with  deadly  malice,  with  the  venom  of  his  heart  congealed  in 
the  expression  of  his  countenance,  sullen,  morose,  gloomy, 
inflexible,  brooding  over  one  idea,  that  of  his  hatred,  and 
fixed  on  one  unalterable  purpose,  that  of  his  revenge.  We 
were  disappointed,  because  we  had  taken  our  idea  from  oth- 
er actors,  not  from  the  play.  There  is  no  proof  there  that 
Shylock  is  old,  but  a  single  line,  "  Bassanio  and  old  Shylock, 
both  stand  forth" — which  does  not  imply  that  he  is  infirm 
with  age — and  the  circumstance  that  he  has  a  daughter  mar- 
riageab'le,  which  does  not  imply  that  he  is  old  at  all.  It 
would  be  too  much  to  say  that  his  body  should  be  made 
crooked  and  deformed  to  answer  to  his  mind,  which  is  bowed 
down  and  warped  with  prejudices  and  passion.  That  he  has 
but  one  idea  is  not  true ;  he  has  more  ideas  than  any  other 
person  in  the  piece  :  and  if  he  is  intense  and  inveterate  in 
the  pursuit  of  his  purpose,  he  shows  the  utmost  elasticity, 
vigour,  and  presence  of  mind,  in  the  means  of  attaining  it. 
But  so  rooted  was  our  habitual  impression  of  the  part  from 
seeing  it  caricatured  in  the  representation,  that  it  was  only 
from  a  careful  perusal  of  the  play  itself  that  we  saw  our 
error.  The  stage  is  not  in  general  the  best  place  to  study 
our  author's  characters  in.  It  is  too  often  filled  with  tradi- 
tional commonplace  conceptions  of  the  part,  handed  down 


INTROD  UC  TION. 


27 


from  sire  to  son,  and  suited  to  the  taste  of  the  great  vulgar 
and  the  small.  "  'T  is  an  unweecled  garden  ;  things  rank  and 
gross  do  merely  gender  in  it.'M  If  a  man  of  genius  comes 
once  in  an  age  to  clear  away  the  rubbish,  to  make  it  fruit- 
ful and  wholesome,  they  cry,  "  'T  is  a  bad  school  ;  it  may 
be  like  nature,  it  may  be  like  Shakespear,  but  it  is  not  like 
us."  Admirable  critics  ! 

[From  Knighfs  "  Pictorial  Shakspere.''''  t] 

Antonio  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Shakspere's  char- 
acters. He  does  not  take  a  very  prominent  part  in  the 
drama:  he  is  a  sufferer  rather  than  an  actor.  We  view  him, 
in  the  outset,  rich,  liberal,  surrounded  with  friends;  yet  he  is 
unhappy.  He  has  higher  aspirations  than  those  which  or- 
dinarily belong  to  one  dependent  upon  the  chances  of  com- 
merce ;  and  this  uncertainty,  as  we  think,  produces  his  un- 
happiness.  He  will  not  acknowledge  the  forebodings  of  evil 
which  come  across  his  mind.  Ulrici  says,  "It  was  the  over- 
great  magnitude  of  his  earthly  riches,  which,  although  his 
heart  was  by  no  means  dependent  upon  their  amount,  un- 
consciously confined  the  free  flight  of  his  soul."  We  doubt 
if  Shakspere  meant  this.  He  has  addressed  the  reproof  of 
that  state  of  mind  to  Portia,  from  the  lips  of  Nerissa  : 

Portia.  By  my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary  of  this  great 
world. 

Nerissa.  You  would  be,  sweet  madam,  if  your  miseries  were  in  the 

*  Hazlitt  is  evidently  quoting  from  memory.     The  reading  in  Hum.  \. 

2.135  is: 

't  is  an  unweeded  garden 

That  grows  to  seed;  things  rank  and  gross  in  nature 
Possess  it  merely. 

Shakespeare  uses  the  verb  gender  only  in  Oth.  iv.  2.  63  : 

a  cistern  for  foul  toads 
To  knot  and  gender  in. 

t  Pictorial  Edition  of  Shakspere,  edited  by  Charles  Knight  (2d  ed.  Lon- 
don, 1867),  vol.  i.  of  Comedies,  p.  452  fol.  (by  permission). 


28  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

same  abundance  as  your  good  fortunes  are ;  and  yet,  for  aught  I  see, 
they  are  as  sick  that  surfeit  with  too  much  as  they  that  starve  with  nothing. 

Antonio  may  say — 

In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad ; 

but  his  reasoning  denial  of  the  cause  of  his  sadness  is  a 
proof  to  us  that  the  foreboding  of  lessee — 
Enow  to  press  a  royal  merchant  down, 

is  at  the  bottom  of  his  sadness.  It  appears  to  us  as  a  self- 
delusion,  which  his  secret  nature  rejects,  that  he  says, 

My  ventures  are  not  in  one  bottom  trusted, 
Nor  to  one  place  ;  nor  is  my  whole  estate 
Upon  the  fortune  of  this  present  year  : 
Therefore,  my  merchandize  makes  me  not  sad. 

When  he  has  given  the  fatal  bond,  he  has  a  sort  of  desperate 
confidence,  which  to  us  looks  very  unlike  assured  belief: 

Why,  fear  not,  man,  I  will  not  forfeit  it; 

Within  these  two  months,  that  's  a  month  before 

This  bond  expires,  I  do  expect  return 

Of  thrice  three  times  the  value  of  this  bond. 

And,  finally,  when  his  calamity  has  become  a  real  thing,  and 
not  a  shadowy  notion,  his  deportment  shows  that  his  mind 
has  been  long  familiar  with  images  of  ruin  : 

Give  me  your  hand,  Bassanio ;  fare  you  well  ! 
Grieve  not  that  I  am  fallen  to  this  for  you  ; 
For  herein  Fortune  shows  herself  more  kind 
Than  is  her  custom :  it  is  still  her  use, 
To  let  the  wretched  man  outlive  his  wealth, 
To  view,  with  hollow  eye  and  wrinkled  brow, 
An  age  of  poverty  ;  from  which  lingering  penance 
Of  such  a  misery  doth  she  cut  me  off. 

The  generosity  of  Antonio's  nature  unfitted  him  for  a  contest 
with  the  circumstances  amid  which  his  lot  was  cast.  The 
Jew  says — 

In  low  simplicity, 
He  lends  out  money  gratis. 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

He  himself  says — 

I  oft  deliver'd  from  his  forfeitures 

Many  that  have  at  times  made  moan  to  me. 

Bassanio  describes  him,  as 

The  kindest  man, 

The  best  condition'd  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies. 

To  such  a  spirit, whose  "means  are  in  supposition" — whose 
ventures  are  "  squander'd  abroad" — the  curse  of  the  Jew 
must  have  sometimes  presented  itself  to  his  own  prophetic 
mind: 

This  is  the  fool  that  lends  out  money  gratis. 

Antonio  and  his  position  are  not  in  harmony.  But  there  is 
something  else  discordant  in  Antonio's  mind.  This  kind 
friend — this  generous  benefactor  —  this  gentle  spirit — this 
man  "unwearied  in  doing  courtesies" — can  outrage  and  in- 
sult a  fellow-creature,  because  he  is  of  another  creed  : 

Shylock.  Fair  sir,  you  spet  on  me  on  Wednesday  last ; 
You  spurn'd  me  such  a  day  ;  another  time 
You  call'd  me  dog ;  and  for  these  courtesies 
I  '11  lend  you  thus  much  moneys. 

Antonio.  I  am  as  like  to  call  thee  so  again, 
To  spet  on  thee  again,  to  spurn  thee  too. 

Was  it  without  an  object  that  Shakspere  made  this  man,  so 
entitled  to  command  our  affections  and  our  sympathy,  act  so 
unworthy  a  part,  and  not  be  ashamed  of  the  act?  Most 
assuredly  the  poet  did  not  intend  to  justify  the  indignities 
which  were  heaped  upon  Shylock  ;  for  in  the  very  strongest 
way  he  has  made  the  Jew  remember  the  insult  in  the  prog- 
ress of  his  wild  revenge  : 

Thou  call'dst  me  dog  before  thou  hadst  a  cause  : 
But,  since  I  am  a  dog,  beware  my  fangs. 

Here,  to  our  minds,  is  the  first  of  the  lessons  of  charity  which 
this  play  teaches.  Antonio  is  as  much  to  be  pitied  for  his 


30  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

prejudices  as  the  Jew  for  his.  They  had  both  been  nurt- 
ured in  evil  opinions.  They  had  both  been  surrounded  by 
influences  which  more  or  less  held  in  subjection  their  better 
natures.  The  honoured  Christian  is  as  intolerant  as  the  de- 
spised Jew.  The  one  habitually  pursues  with  injustice  the 
subjected  man  that  he  has  been  taught  to  loathe  ;  the  other, 
in  the  depths  of  his  subtle  obstinacy,  seizes  upon  the  occa- 
sion to  destroy  the  powerful  man  that  he  has  been  compelled 
to  fear.  The  companions  of  Antonio  exhibit,  more  or  less, 
the  same  reflection  of  the  prejudices  which  have  become  to 
them  a  second  nature.  They  are  not  so  gross  in  their  prej- 
udices as  Launcelot,  to  whom  "  the  Jew  is  the  very  devil 
incarnation."  But  to  Lorenzo,  who  is  about  to  marry  his 
daughter,  Shylock  is  a  "  faithless  Jew."  When  the  unhappy 
father  is  bereft  of  all  that  constituted  the  solace  of  his  home, 
and  before  he  has  manifested  that  spirit  of  revenge  which 
might  well  call  for  indignation  and  contempt,  he  is  to  the 
gentlemanly  Salanio  "the  villain  Jew,"  and  "the  clog  Jew." 
When  the  unhappy  man  speaks  of  his  daughter's  flight,  he  is 
met  with  a  brutal  jest  on  the  part  of  Salarino,  who,  within 
his  own  circle,  is  the  pleasantest  of  men  :  "  I,  for  my  part, 
knew  the  tailor  that  made  the  wings  she  flew  withal."  We 
can  understand  the  reproaches  that  are  heaped  upon  Shy- 
lock  in  the  trial  scene,  as  something  that  might  come  out  of 
the  depths  of  any  passion-stirred  nature  ;  but  the  habitual 
contempt  with  which  he  is  treated  by  men  who  in  every  oth- 
er respect  are  gentle  and  good-humoured  and  benevolent,  is 
a  proof  to  us  that  Shakspere  meant  to  represent  the  struggle 
that  must  inevitably  ensue,  in  a  condition  of  society  where 
the  innate  sense  of  justice  is  deadened  in  the  powerful  by 
those  hereditary  prejudices  which  make  cruelty  virtue;  and 
where  the  powerless,  invested  by  accident  with  the  means  of 
revenge,  say  with  Shylock,  "The  villany  you  teach  me  I  will 
execute  ;  and  it  shall  go  hard  but  I  will  better  the  instruc- 
tion." The  climax  of  this  subjection  of  our  higher  and  bet- 


INTR  ODUC  TION. 


31 


ter  natures  to  conventional  circumstances  is  to  be  found  in 
the  character  of  the  Jew's  daughter.  Young,  agreeable,  in- 
telligent, formed  for  happiness,  she  is  shut  up  by  her  father 
in  a  dreary  solitude.  One  opposed  to  her  in  creed  gains  her 
affections ;  and  the  ties  which  bind  the  father  and  the  child 
are  broken  forever.  But  they  are  not  broken  without  com- 
punction : 

Alack  !  what  heinous  sin  is  it  in  me 
To  be  asham'd  to  be  my  father's  child. 

This  is  nature.  But  when  she  has  fled  from  him — robbed 
him — spent  fourscore  ducats  in  one  night — given  his  tur- 
quoise for  a  monkey — and,  finally,  revealed  his  secrets,  with 
an  evasion  of  the  ties  that  bound  them,  which  makes  one's 
flesh  creep, 

When  I  was  with  him, 

we  see  the  poor  girl  plunged  into  the  most  wretched  contest 
between  her  duties  and  her  pleasures  by  the  force  of  external 
circumstances.  We  grant,  then,  to  all  these  our  compassion  ; 
for  they  commit  injustice  ignorantly,  and  through  a  force 
which  they  cannot  withstand.  Is  the  Jew  himself  not  to  be 
measured  by  the  same  rule  ?  We  believe  that  it  was  Shak- 
spere's  intention  so  to  measure  him. 

When  Pope  exclaimed  of  Macklin's  performance  of  Shy- 
lock, 

This  is  the  Jew 

That  Shakspere  drew  ! 

the  higher  philosophy  of  Shakspere  was  little  appreciated. 
Macklin  was,  no  doubt,  from  all  traditionary  report  of  him, 
perfectly  capable  of  representing  the  subtlety  of  the  Jew's 
malice  and  the  energy  of  his  revenge.  But  it  is  a  question 
with  us,  whether  he  perceived,  or  indeed  if  any  actor  ever 
efficiently  represented,  the  more  delicate  traits  of  character 
that  lie  beneath  these  two  great  passions  of  the  Jew's  heart. 
Look,  for  example,  at  the  extraordinary  mixture  of  the  per- 


32  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

sonal  and  the  national  in  his  dislike  of  Antonio.  He  hates 
him  for  his  gentle  manners: 

How  like  a  fawning  publican  he  looks  ! 

He  hates  him,  "for  he  is  a  Christian  ;"  he  hates  him,  for  that 
"  he  lends  out  money  gratis  ;"  but  he  hates  him  more  than 

all,  because 

He  hates  our  sacred  nation. 

It  is  this  national  feeling  which,  when  carried  in  a  right  di- 
rection, makes  a  patriot  and  a  hero,  that  assumes  in  Shylock 
the  aspect  of  a  grovelling  and  fierce  personal  revenge.  He 
has  borne  insult  and  injury  "with  a  patient  shrug  ;"  but  ever 
in  small  matters  he  has  been  seeking  retribution  : 

I  am  not  bid  for  love,  they  flatter  me ; 
But  yet  I  '11  go  in  hate,  to  feed  upon 
The  prodigal  Christian. 

The  mask  is  at  length  thrown  off — he  has  the  Christian  in 
his  power  ;  and  his  desire  of  revenge,  mean  and  ferocious  as 
it  is,  rises  into  sublimity,  through  the  unconquerable  energy 
of  the  oppressed  man's  wilfulness.  "I  am  a  Jew :  Hath 
not  a  Jew  eyes?  hath  not  a  Jew  hands,  organs,  dimensions, 
senses,  affections,  passions?  fed  with  the  same  food,  hurt 
with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same  diseases,  healed 
by  the  same  means,  warmed  and  cooled  by  the  same  winter 
and  summer,  as  a  Christian  is?  If  you  prick  us,  do  we  not 
bleed?  if  you  tickle  us,  do  we  not  laugh?  if  you  poison  us, 
do  we  not  die?  and  if  you  wrong  us,  shall  we  not  revenge? 
If  we  are  like  you  in  the  rest,  we  will  resemble  you  in  that." 
It  is  impossible,  after  this  exposition  of  his  feelings,  that  we 
should  not  feel  that  he  has  properly  cast  the  greater  portion 
of  the  odium  which  belongs  to  his  actions  upon  the  social 
circumstances  by  which  he  has  been  hunted  into  madness. 
He  has  been  made  the  thing  he  is  by  society.  In  the  ex- 
treme wildness  of  his  anger,  when  he  utters  the  harrowing 
imprecation, — "  I  would  my  daughter  were  dead  at  my  foot, 


IN  TROD  UCTION. 


33 


and  the  jewels  in  her  ear!  Would  she  were  hearsed  at  my 
foot,  and  the  ducats  in  her  coffin  ;"  the  tenderness  that  be- 
longs to  our  common  humanity,  even  in  its  most  passionate 
forgetfulness  of  the  dearest  ties,  comes  across  him  in  the  re- 
membrance of  the  mother  of  that  execrated  child: — "Out 
upon  her !  Thou  torturest  me,  Tubal :  it  was  my  turquoise  ; 
I  had  it  of  Leah  when  I  was  a  bachelor." 

It  is  in  the  conduct  of  the  trial  scene  that,  as  it  appears  to 
us,  is  to  be  sought  the  concentration  of  Shakspere's  leading 
idea  in  the  composition  of  this  drama.  The  merchant  stands 
before  the  Jew  a  better  and  a  wiser  man  than  when  he  called 
him  k'dog:" 

I  do  oppose 

My  patience  to  his  fury,  and  am  arm'd 

To  suffer,  with  a  quietness  of  spirit, 

The  very  tyranny  and  rage  of  his. 

Misfortune  has  corrected  the  influences  which,  in  happier 
moments,  allowed  him  to  forget  the  gentleness  of  his  nature, 
and  to  heap  unmerited  abuse  upon  him  whose  badge  was 
sufferance.  The  Jew  is  unchanged.  But  if  Shakspere  in 
the  early  scenes  made  us  entertain  some  compassion  for  his 
wrongs,  he  has  now  left  him  to  bear  all  the  indignation  which 
we  ought  to  feel  against  one  "  uncapable  of  pity."  But  we 
cannot  despise  the  Jew.  His  intellectual  vigour  rises  su- 
preme over  the  mere  reasonings  by  which  he  is  opposed. 
He  defends  his  own  injustice  by  the  example  of  as  great  an 
injustice  of  everyday  occurrence — and  no  one  ventures  to 
answer  him  : 

You  have  among  you  many  a  purchas'd  slave, 
Which,  like  your  asses  and  your  dogs  and  mules, 
You  use  in  abject  and  in  slavish  parts, 
Because  you  bought  them. — Shall  I  say  to  you, 
Let  them  be  free,  marry  them  to  your  heirs  ? 
Why  sweat  they  under  burdens  ?  let  their  beds 
Be  made  as  soft  as  yours,  and  let  their  palates 
Be  season'd  with  such  viands  ?     You  will  answer, 

c 


34  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

The  slaves  are  ours. — So  do  I  answer  you  : 
The  pound  of  flesh,  which  I  demand  of  him, 
Is  dearly  bought ;  't  is  mine,  and  I  will  have  it. 
If  you  deny  me,  fie  upon  your  law  ! 

It  would  have  been  exceedingly  difficult  for  the  merchant  to 
have  escaped  from  the  power  of  the  obdurate  man,  so  strong 
in  the  letter  of  the  law,  and  so  resolute  to  carry  it  out  by  the 
example  of  his  judges  in  other  matters,  had  not  the  law  been 
found  here,  as  in  most  other  cases,  capable  of  being  bent  to 
the  will  of  its  administrators.  Had  it  been  the  inflexible 
thing  which  Shylock  required  it  to  be,  a  greater  injustice 
would  have  been  committed  than  the  Jew  had  finally  him- 
self to  suffer.  .  .  . 

Had  Shylock  relented  after  that  most  beautiful  appeal  to 
his  mercy,  which  Shakspere  has  here  placed  as  the  exponent 
of  the  higher  principle  upon  which  all  law  and  right  are  es- 
sentially dependent,  the  real  moral  of'the  drama  would  have 
been  destroyed.  The  weight  of  injuries  transmitted  to  Shy- 
lock  from  his  forefathers,  and  still  heaped  upon  him  even  by 
the  best  of  those  by  whom  he  was  surrounded,  was  not  so 
easily  to  become  light,  and  to  cease  to  exasperate  his  nature. 
Nor  would  it  have  been  a  true  picture  of  society  in  the  six- 
teenth century  had  the  poet  shown  the  judges  of  the  Jew 
wholly  magnanimous  in  granting  him  the  mercy  which  he 
denied  to  the  Christian.  We  certainly  do  not  agree  with 
the  Duke,  in  his  address  to  Shylock,  that  the  conditions 
upon  which  his  life  is  spared  are  imposed — 

That  thou  shall  see  the  difference  of  our  spirit. 
Nor  do  we  think  that  Shakspere  meant  to  hold  up  these  con- 
ditions as  anything  better  than  examples  of  the  mode  in 
which  the  strong  are  accustomed  to  deal  with  the  weak. 
There  is  still  something  discordant  in  this,  the  real  catas- 
trophe of  the  drama.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  and  yet  be 
true  to  nature. 

But  how  artistically  has  the  poet  restored  the  balance  of 


INTRODUCTION. 


35 


pleasurable  sensations!  Throughout  the  whole  conduct  of 
the  play,  what  may  be  called  its  tragic  portion  has  been  re- 
lieved by  the  romance  which  belongs  to  the  personal  fate  of 
Portia.  But  after  the  great  business  of  the  drama  is  wound 
up,  we  fall  back  upon  a  repose  which  is  truly  refreshing  and 
harmonious.  From  the  lips  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  as  they 
sit  in  the  "paler  day"  of  an  Italian  moon,  are  breathed  the 
lighter  strains  of  the  most  playful  poetry,  mingled  with  the 
highest  flights  of  the  most  elevated.  Music  and  the  odours 
of  sweet  flowers  are  around  them.  Happiness  is  in  their 
hearts.  Their  thoughts  are  lifted  by  the  beauties  of  the  earth 
above  the  earth.  This  delicious  scene  belongs  to  what  is 
universal  and  eternal,  and  takes  us  far  away  from  those  bit- 
ter strifes  of  our  social  state  which  are  essentially  narrow 
and  temporary.  And  then  come  the  affectionate  welcomes, 
the  pretty,  pouting  contests,  and  the  happy  explanations  of 
Portia  and  Nerissa  with  Bassanio  and  Gratiano.  Here  again 
we  are  removed  into  a  sphere  where  the  calamities  of  fort- 
une, and  the  injustice  of  man  warring  against  man,  may  be 
forgotten.  The  poor  Merchant  is  once  more  happy.  The 
"gentle  spirit"  of  Portia  is  perhaps  the  happiest,  for  she  has 
triumphantly  concluded  a  work  as  religious  as  her  pretended 
pilgrimage  "by  holy  crosses."  To  use  the  words  of  Dr.  Ul- 
rici,  "  the  sharp  contrarieties  of  right  and  unright  are  played 
out." 

\From  White's  Introduction  to  the  Play.*'} 

We  find,  then,  that  the  story  of  this  comedy,  even  to  its  epi- 
sodic part  and  its  minutest  incidents,  had  been  told  again  and 
again  long  before  Shakespeare  was  born — that  even  certain 
expressions  in  it  occur  in  the  works  of  the  preceding  authors 
— in  Giovanni  Fiorentino's  version  of  trie  story  of  the  Bond, 
in  the  story  of  the  Caskets,  as  told  in  the  Gesta  Romanonim, 

in  the  ballad  of  Gernutus,  and  in   Massuccio  di  Salerno's 

« 

*  White's  Shakespeare,  vol.  iv.  p.  139. 


3  6  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

novel  about  the  girl  who  eloped  from  and  robbed  her  miserly 
father — and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  even  the  combina- 
tion of  the  first  two  of  these  had  been  made  before  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice  was  written.  What  then  remains  to  Shake- 
speare? and  what  is  there  to  show  that  he  is  not  a  plagiar- 
ist? Everything  that  makes  The  Merchant  of  Venice  what  it 
is.  The  people  are  puppets,  and  the  incidents  are  all  in 
these  old  stories.  They  are  mere  bundles  of  barren  sticks 
that  the  poet's  touch  causes  to  bloom  like  Aaron's  rod  :  they 
are  heaps  of  dry  bones  till  he  clothes  them  with  human  flesh 
and  breathes  into  them  the  breath  of  life.  Antonio,  grave, 
pensive,  prudent  save  in  his  devotion  to  his  young  kinsman, 
as  a  Christian  hating  the  Jew,  as  a  royal  merchant  despising 
the  usurer;  Bassanio,  lavish  yet  provident,  a  generous  gentle- 
man although  a  fortune-seeker,  wise  although  a  gay  gallant, 
and  manly  though  dependent;  Gratiano,\vho  unites  the  not 
too  common  virtues  of  thorough  good  nature  and  unselfish- 
ness with  the  sometimes  not  unserviceable  fault  of  talking  for 
talk's  sake  ;  Shylock,  crafty  and  cruel,  whose  revenge  is  as 
mean  as  it  is  fierce  and  furious,  whose  abuse  never  rises  to 
invective,  and  who  has  yet  some  dignity  of  port  as  the  aven- 
ger of  a  nation's  wrongs,  some  claim  upon  our  sympathy  as 
a  father  outraged  by  his  only  child  ;  and  Portia,  matchless 
impersonation  of  that  rare  woman  who  is  gifted  even  more  in 
intellect  than  loveliness,  and  who  yet  stops  gracefully  short 
of  the  offence  of  intellectuality — these,  not  to  notice  minor 
characters  no  less  perfectly  organized  or  completely  devel- 
oped after  their  kind — these,  and  the  poetry  which  is  their 
atmosphere,  and  through  which  they  beam  upon  us,  all  radi- 
ant in  its  golden  light,  are  Shakespeare's  only ;  and  these  it 
is,  and  not  the  incidents  of  old  and,  but  for  these,  forgotten 
tales,  that  make  The  Merchant  of  Venice  a  priceless  and  im- 
perishable dower  to  the  queenly  city  that  sits  enthroned  upon 
the  sea — a  dower  of  romance  more  bewitching  than  that  of 
her  moonlit  waters  and  beauty-laden  balconies,  of  adornment 


INTRODUCTION. 


37 


more  splendid  than  that  of  her  pictured  palaces,  of  hu- 
man interest  more  enduring  than  that  of  her  blood-stained 
annals,  more  touching  even  than  the  sight  of  her  faded 
grandeur. 

[from  Dowtten's  "  Shakspere  Primer."*] 

The  distinction  of  Portia  among  Shakspere's  women  is 
the  union  in  her  nature  of  high  intellectual  powers  and  de- 
cision of  will  with  a  heart  full  of  ardour  and  of  susceptibility 
to  romantic  feelings.  She  has  herself  never  known  trouble 
or  sorrow,  but  prosperity  has  left  her  generous  and  quick  in 
sympathy.  Her  noble  use  of  wealth  and  joyous  life,  sur- 
rounded with  flowers  and  fountains  and  marble  statues  and 
music,  stands  in  contrast  over  against  the  hard,  sad,  and  con- 
tracted life  of  Shylock,  one  of  a  persecuted  tribe,  absorbed 
in  one  or  two  narrowing  and  intense  passions — the  love  of 
the  money-bags  he  clutches  and  yet  fails  to  keep,  and  his 
hatred  of  the  man  who  had  scorned  his  tribe,  insulted  his 
creed,  and  diminished  his  gains.  Yet  Shylock  is  not  like 
Marlowe's  Jew,  Barabas,  a  preternatural  monster.  Wolf- 
like  as  his  revenge  shows  him,  we  pity  his  joyless,  solitary 
life  ;  and  when,  ringed  round  in  the  trial  scene  with  hostile 
force,  he  stands  firm  upon  his  foothold  of  the  law,  there  is 
something  sublime  in  his  tenacity  of  passion  and  resolve. 
But  we  feel  that  it  is  right  that  this  evil  strength  should  be 
utterly  crushed  and  quelled,  and  when  Shylock  leaves  the 
court  a  broken  man,  we  know  it  is  needful  that  this  should 
be  so. 

The  choosing  of  the  caskets  shows  us  Portia,  who  will 
strictly  interpret  the  law  of  Venice  for  Shylock  and  Antonio, 
loyally  abiding  by  the  provisions  which  her  father  has  laid 
down  in  her  own  case.  And  Bassanio  is  ennobled  in  our 
eyes  by  his  choice  ;  for  the  gold,  silver,  and  lead  of  the 
caskets,  with  their  several  inscriptions,  are  a  test  of  true 

*  Literature  Primers:  Shakspere,  by  Edward  Dowden,  LL.D.  (Lon- 
don, 1878),  p.  95  fol.  (by  permission). 


38  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

lovers.  Bassanio  does  not  come  as  a  needy  adventurer  to 
choose  the  golden  casket,  or  to  "  gain  "  or  "  get "  anything, 
but  in  the  true  spirit  of  self-abandoning  love  "  to  give,"  not 
to  get,  "  and  hazard  all  he  hath ;"  and  having  dared  to  give 
all  he  gains  all. 

The  lyrical  boy- and -girl  love  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica 
brings  out  by  contrast  the  grave  and  glad  earnestness  of 
Portia's  love  and  Bassanio's.  Jessica  has  not  a  thought  of 
loyalty  to  her  father — nor  is  it  to  be  expected.  The  lyrical 
passages  between  Lorenzo  and  Jessica  in  the  moonlit  gar- 
den, ending  with  the  praise  of  music,  contrast  with  Portia's 
generalizing  reflections  (the  wake  of  thought  still  undulating 
after  her  great  intellectual  effort  at  the  trial),  suggested  by 
the  light  seen  and  music  heard  as  she  approaches  her  house, 
and  by  her  failing  to  receive  any  pleasure  from  the  music 
which  Lorenzo  has  so  eloquently  praised. 

The  comedy  must  end  mirthfully.  After  the  real  struggle 
and  the  strain  of  interest  respecting  Antonio's  fate,  we  pass 
on  to  the  playful  differences  about  the  rings;  from  the  court 
of  justice  at  Venice  we  are  carried  to  the  luminous  night  in 
the  gardens  of  Belmont.  Even  Antonio's  ships  must  not  be 
lost;  a  moment  of  happiness  after  trouble  cannot  be  too 
perfect. 


THE    MERCHANT    OF    VENICE. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

THE  DUKE  OF  VENICE. 

THE  PRINCE  OF  MOROCCO.  I       •.        ,     D     . 

THE  PRINCE  OF  ARRAGON!  I  Sultors  to  Portla- 

ANTONIO,  the  Merchant  of  Venice 

BASSANIO,  his  friend. 

SALANIO,     ) 

SALAKINO,  >  friends  to  Antonio  and  Bassanio. 

GRATIANO,  ) 

LORENZO,  in  love  with  Jessica. 

SHYI.OCK,  a  Jew. 

TUBAI.,  a  Jew,  his  friend. 

LAUNCELOT  GOBBO,  a  clown. 

OLD  GOBBO,  father  to  Launcelot. 

SAI.EKIO,  a  messenger 

L&ONARDO,  servant  to  Bassanio. 


PORTIA,  a  rich  heiress. 
NERISSA,  her  waiting-maid. 
JESSICA,  daughter  to  Shylork. 

Magnificoes  of  Venice,  Officers  of  the  Court  of  Justice, 
Gaoler,  Servants,  and  other  Attendants. 

SCENE  :  Partly  at  Venice,  and  partly  at  Beliuont, 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.      Venice.     A  Street. 
Enter  ANTONIO,  SALARINO,  and  SALANIO. 

Antonio.   In  sooth,  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad 
It  wearies  me,  you  say  it  wearies  you  ; 
But  how  I  caught  it,  found  it,  or  came  by  it, 
What  stuff  't  is  made  of,  whereof  it  is  born, 
I  am  to  learn  ; 

And  such  a  want-wit  sadness  makes  of  me, 
That  I  have  much  ado  to  know  myself. 

Salarino.  Your  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean  ; 
There  where  your  argosies  with  portly  sail, 


42  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Like  signiors  and  rich  burghers  on  the  flood, 
Or,  as  it  were,  the  pageants  of  the  sea, 
Do  overpeer  the  petty  traffickers, 
That  curtsy  to  them,  do  them  reverence, 
As  they  fly  by  them  with  their  woven  wings. 

Salanio.   Believe  me,  sir,  had  I  such  venture  forth, 
The  better  part  of  my  affections  would 
Be  with  my  hopes  abroad.     I  should  be  still 
Plucking  the  grass,  to  know  where  sits  the  wind, 
Peering  in  maps  for  ports,  and  piers,  and  roads  ; 
And  every  object  that  might  make  me  fear 
Misfortune  to  my  ventures,  out  of  doubt, 
Would  make  me  sad. 

Salarino.  My  wind,  cooling  my  broth, 

Would  blow  me  to  an  ague,  when  I  thought 
What  harm  a  wind  too  great  might  do  at  sea. 
I  should  not  see  the  sandy  hour-glass  run 
But  I  should  think  of  shallows  and  of  flats, 
And  see  my  wealthy  Andrew  dock'd  in  sand, 
Vailing  her  high-top  lower  than  her  ribs, 
To  kiss  her  burial.     Should  I  go  to  church 
And  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone, 
And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks, 
Which,  touching  but  my  gentle  vessel's  side, 
Would  scatter  all  her  spices  on  the  stream, 
Enrobe  the  roaring  waters  with  my  silks, 
And,  in  a  word,  but  even  now  worth  this, 
And  now  worth  nothing?     Shall  I  have  the  thought 
To  think  on  this,  and  shall  I  lack  the  thought 
That  such  a  thing  bechanc'd  would  make  me  sad  ? 
But  tell  not  me ;  I  know,  Antonio 
Is  sad  to  think  upon  his  merchandise. 

Antonio.  Believe  me,  no.     I  thank  my  fortune  for  it, 
My  ventures  are  not  in  one  bottom  trusted, 
Nor  to  one  place ;  nor  is  my  whole  estate 


ACT  I.    SCENE  L 


43 


Upon  the  fortune  of  this  present  year  : 
Therefore  my  merchandise  makes  me  not  sad. 

Salarino.  Why,  then  you  are  in  love. 

Antonio.  Fie,  fie ! 

Salarino.  Not  in  love  neither  ?    Then  let  us  say  you  're  sad 
Because  you  are  not  merry ;  and  't  were  as  easy 
For  you  to  laugh  and  leap,  and  say  you  're  merry 
Because  you  are  not  sad.     Now,  by  two-headed  Janus,         50 
Nature  hath  fram'd  strange  fellows  in  her  time : 
Some  that  will  evermore  peep  through  their  eyes 
And  laugh,  like  parrots,  at  a  bag-piper; 
And  other  of  such  vinegar  aspect 
That  they  '11  not  show  their  teeth  in  way  of  smile, 
Though  Nestor  swear  the  jest  be  laughable. 

Enter  BASSANIO,  LORENZO,  and  GRATIANO. 

Salanio.  Here  comes  Bassanio,  your  most  noble  kinsman, 
Gratiano,  and  Lorenzo.     Fare  ye  well ; 
We  leave  you  now  with  better  company. 

Salarino.  I  would  have  stay'd  till  I  had  made  you  merry, 
If  worthier  friends  had  not  prevented  me.  61 

Antonio.  Your  worth  is  very  dear  in  my  regard. 
I  take  it,  your  own  business  calls  on  you, 
And  you  embrace  the  occasion  to  depart. 

Salarino.  Good  morrow,  my  good  lords. 

Bassanio.  Good  signiors  both,  when  shall  we  laugh  ?     Say, 

when? 
You  grow  exceeding  strange;  must  it  be  so? 

Salarino.  We  Tl  make  our  leisures  to  attend  on  yours. 

\Exeunt  Salarino  and  Salanio. 

Lorenzo.  My  Lord  Bassanio,  since  you  've  found  Antonio, 
We  two  will  leave  you  ;  but  at  dinner-time,  ia 

I  pray  you,  have  in  mind  where  we  must  meet. 

Bassanio.  I  will  not  fail  you. 

Gratiano.  You  look  not  well,  Signior  Antonio ; 


44 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


You  have  too  much  respect  upon  the  world : 
They  lose  it  that  do  buy  it  with  much  care. 
Believe  me,  you  are  marvellously  chang'd. 

Antonio.  I  hold  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gratiano 
A  stage  where  every  man  must  play  a  part, 
And  mine  a  sad  one. 

Gratiano.  Let  me  play  the  fool ; 

With  mirth  and  laughter  let  old  wrinkles  corne,  8o 

And  let  my  liver  rather  heat  with  wine 
Than  my  heart  cool  with  mortifying  groans. 
Why  should  a  man  whose  blood  is  warm  within 
Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster? 
Sleep  when  he  wakes,  and  creep  into  the  jaundice 
By  being  peevish?     I  tell  thee  what,  Antonio, — 
I  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks,— 
There  are  a  sort  of  men  whose  visages 
Do  cream  and  mantle  like  a  standing  pond, 
And  do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain,  ^ 

With  purpose  to  be  dress'd  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  gravity,  profound  conceit ; 
As  who  should  say,  '  I  am  Sir  Oracle, 
And  when  I  ope  my  lips  let  no  clog  bark !' 

0  my  Antonio,  I  do  know  of  these 
That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise 

For  saying  nothing  ;  when,  I  am  very  sure, 

If  they  should  speak,  would  almost  damn  those  ears 

Which,  hearing  them,  would  call  their  brothers  fools. 

1  '11  tell  thee  more  of  this  another  time  ;  I00 
But  fish  not,  with  this  melancholy  bait, 

For  this  fool-gudgeon,  this  opinion. — 
Come,  good  Lorenzo. — Fare  ye  well  a  while; 
I  '11  end  my  exhortation  after  dinner. 

Lorenzo.  Well,  we  will  leave  you,  then,  till  dinner-time. 
I  must  be  one  of  these  same  dumb  wise  men, 
For  Gratiano  never  lets  me  speak. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 


45 


Gratiano.  Well,  keep  me  company  but  two  years  moe, 
Thou  shalt  not  know  the  sound  of  thine  own  tongue. 

Antonio,  Farewell;  I  '11  grow  a  talker  for  this  gear.         no 

Grattano.  Thanks,  i'  faith ;  for  silence  is  only  commendable 
In  a  neat's  tongue  dried.  \Exeunt  Gratiano  and  Lorenzo. 

Antonio.  Is  that  any  thing  now? 

Bassanio.  Gratiano  speaks  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing, 
more  than  any  man  in  all  Venice.  His  reasons  are  as  two 
grains  of  wheat  hid  in  two  bushels  of  chaff;  you  shall  seek 
all  day  ere  you  find  them,  and  when  you  have  them  they 
are  not  worth  the  search. 

Antonio.  Well,  tell  me  now,  what  lady  is  the  same 
To  whom  you  swore  a  secret  pilgrimage,  120 

That  you  to-day  promis'd  to  tell  me  of? 

Bassanio.  'T  is  not  unknown  to  you,  Antonio, 
How  much  I  have  disabled  mine  estate, 
By  something  showing  a  more  swelling  port 
Than  my  faint  means  would  grant  continuance: 
Nor  do  I  now  make  moan  to  be  abridg'd 
From  such  a  noble  rate;  but  my  chief  care 
Is  to  come  fairly  off  from  the  great  debts 
Wherein  my  time,  something  too  prodigal, 
Hath  left  me  gag'd.     To  you,  Antonio,  ,30 

I  owe  the  most,  in  money  and  in  love ; 
And  from  your  love  I  have  a  warranty 
To  unburthen  all  my  plots  'and  purposes, 
How  to  get  clear  of  all  the  debts  I  owe. 

Antonio.  I  pray  you,  good  Bassanio,  let  me  know  it ; 
And  if  it  stand,  as  you  yourself  still  do, 
Within  the  eye  of  honour,  be  assur'd, 
My  purse,  my  person,  my  extremes!  means, 
Lie  all  unlock'd  to  your  occasions. 

Bassanio.   In  my  school-days,  when  I  had  lost  one  shaft, 
I  shot  his  fellow  of  the  selfsame  flight  MJ 

The  selfsame  way,  with  more  advised  watch, 


46  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

To  find  the  other  forth  ;  and  by  adventuring  both 

I  oft  found  both.     I  urge  this  childhood  proof. 

Because  what  follows  is  pure  innocence. 

I  owe  you  much,  and,  like  a  wilful  youth, 

That  which  I  owe  is  lost ;  but  if  you  please 

To  shoot  another  arrow  that  self  way 

Which  you  did  shoot  the  first,  I  do  not  doubt, 

As  I  will  watch  the  aim,  or  to  find  both  150 

Or  bring  your  latter  hazard  back  again, 

And  thankfully  rest  debtor  for  the  first. 

Antonio.  You  know  me  well,  and  herein  spend  but  time 
To  wind  about  my  love  with  circumstance  ; 
And,  out  of  doubt,  you  do  me  now  more  wrong 
In  making  question  of  my  uttermost 
Than  if  you  had  made  waste  of  all  I  have. 
Then  do  but  say  to  me  what  I  should  do, 
That  in  your  knowledge  may  by  me  be  done, 
And  I  am  prest  unto  it ;  therefore  speak.  160 

Bassanio.  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left; 
And  she  is  fair  and,  fairer  than  that  word, 
Of  wondrous  virtues:  sometimes  from  her  eyes 
I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages. 
Her  name  is  Portia  ;  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus'  Portia  : 
Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth ; 
For  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 
Renowned  suitors  ;  and  her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece;  170 

Which  makes  her  seat  of  Belmont  Colchos'  strand, 
And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her. 

0  my  Antonio,  had  I  but  the  means 
To  hold  a  rival  place  with  one  of  them, 

1  have  a  mind  presages  me  such  thrift 
That  I  should  questionless  be  fortunate. 

Antonio.  Thou  know'st  that  all  my  fortunes  are  at  sea; 


ACT  I.     SCENE  II.  47 

Neither  have  I  money  nor  commodity 

To  raise  a  present  sum  :  therefore  go  forth  ; 

Try  what  my  credit  can  in  Venice  do  :  iSo 

That  shall  be  rack'd,  even  to  the  uttermost, 

To  furnish  thee  to  Belmont,  to  fair  Portia. 

Go,  presently  inquire,  and  so  will  I, 

Where  money  is,  and  I  no  question  make 

To  have  it  of  my  trust  or  for  my  sake.  \_Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 
Enter  PORTIA  and  NERISSA. 

Portia.  By  my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary  of 
this  great  world. 

JS/erissa.  You  would  be,  sweet  madam,  if  your  miseries 
were  in  the  same  abundance  as  your  good  fortunes  are;  and 
yet,  for  aught  I  see,  they  are  as  sick  that  surfeit  with  too 
much  as  they  that  starve  with  nothing.  It  is  no  mean  hap- 
piness, therefore,  to  be  seated  in  the  mean  ;  superfluity  comes 
sooner  by  white  hairs,  but  competency  lives  longer. 

Portia.  Good  sentences,  and  well  pronounced. 

Nerissa.  They  would  be  better  if  well  followed.  10 

Portia.  If  to  do  were  as  easy  as  to  know  what  were  good 
to  do,  chapels  had  been  churches,  and  poor  men's  cottages 
princes'  palaces.  It  is  a  good  divine  that  follows  his  own 
instructions;  I  can  easier  teach  twenty  what  were  good  to  be 
done,  than  be  one  of  the  twenty  to  follow  mine  own  teaching. 
The  brain  may  devise  laws  for  the  blood,  but  a  hot  temper 
leaps  o'er  a  cold  decree;  such  a  hare  is  madness,  the  youth, 
to  skip  o'er  the  meshes  of  good  counsel,  the  cripple.  But 
this  reasoning  is  not  in  the  fashion  to  choose  me  a  husband. 
— O  me,  the  word  '  choose  !'  I  may  neither  choose  whom  I 
would,  nor  refuse  whom  I  dislike ;  so  is  the  will  of  a  living 
daughter  curbed  by  the  will  of  a  dead  father.  Is  it  not  hard, 
Nerissa,  that  I  cannot  choose  one,  nor  refuse  none  ?  23 


48  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Nerissa.  Your  father  was  ever  virtuous,  and  holy  men  at 
their  death  have  good  inspirations;  therefore  the  lottery  that 
he  hath  devised  in  these  three  chests  of  gold,  silver,  and  lead 
— whereof  who  chooses  his  meaning  chooses  you — will,  no 
doubt,  never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly  but  one  who  you  shall 
rightly  love.  But  what  warmth  is  there  in  your  affection  tow- 
ards any  of  these  princely  suitors  that  are  already  come  ?  3° 

Portia.  I  pray  thee,  over-name  them,  and  as  thou  namest 
them,  I  will  describe  them  ;  and,  according  to  my  description, 
level  at  my  affection. 

Nerissa.  First,  there  is  the  Neapolitan  prince. 

Portia.  Ay,  that  's  a  colt  indeed,  for  he  doth  nothing  but 
talk  of  his  horse  ;  and  he  makes  it  a  great  appropriation  to 
his  own  good  parts,  that  he  can  shoe  him  himself. 

Nerissa.  Then  is  there  the  County  Palatine.  38 

Portia.  He  doth  nothing  but  frown,  as  who  should  say, 
'  An  you  will  not  have  me,  choose.'  He  hears  merry  tales, 
and  smiles  not;  I  fear  he  will  prove  the  weeping  philoso- 
pher when  he  grows  old,  being  so  full  of  unmannerly  sadness 
in  his  youth.  I  had  rather  to  be  married  to  a  death's-head 
with  a  bone  in  his  mouth  than  to  either  of  these.  God  de- 
fend me  from  these  two ! 

Nerissa.  How  say  you  by  the  French  lord,  Monsieur  Le 
Bon  ?  47 

""  Portia.  God  made  him,  and  therefore  let  him  pass  for  a 
man.  In  truth,  I  know  it  is  a  sin  to  be  a  mocker;  but,  he  ! 
why,  he  hath  a  horse  better  than  the  Neapolitan's,  a  better 
bad  habit  of  frowning  than  the  Count  Palatine:  he  is  every 
man  in  no  man  ;  if  a  throstle  sing,  he  falls  straight  a-caper- 
ing;  he  will  fence  with  his  own  shadow.  If  I  should  marry 
him,  I  should  marry  twenty  husbands.  If  he  would  despise 
me,  I  would  forgive  him  ;  for  if  he  love  me  to  madness,  I  shall 
never  requite  him. 

Nerissa.  What  say  you,  then,  to  Falconbridge,  the  young 
baron  of  England 2  58 


ACT  I.     SCEXE  //. 


49 


Portia.  You  know  I  say  nothing  to  him,  for  he  understands 
not  me,  nor  I  him  ;  he  hath  neither  Latin,  French,  nor  Ital- 
ian, and  you  will  come  into  the  court  and  swear  that  I  have 
a  poor  pennyworth  in  the  English.  He  is  a  proper  man's 
picture;  but,  alas!  who  can  converse  with  a  dumb  show? 
How  oddly  he  is  suited  !  I  think  he  bought  his  doublet  in 
Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his  bonnet  in  Germany,  and 
his  behaviour  every  where.  66 

Nerissa.  What  think  you  of  the  Scottish  lord,  his  neighbour? 

Portia.  That  he  hath  a  neighbourly  charity  in  him  ;  for  he 
borrowed  a  box  of  the  ear  of  the  Englishman,  and  swore  he 
would  pay  him  again  when  he  was  able:  I  think  the  French- 
man became  his  surety  and  sealed  under  for  another.  7i 

Nerissa.  How  like  you  the  young  German,  the  Duke  of 
Saxony's  nephew? 

Portia.  Very  vilely  in  the  morning,  when  he  is  sober,  and 
most  vilely  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  is  drunk:  when  he  is 
best,  he  is  a  little  worse  than  a  man ;  and  when  he  is  worst, 
he  is  little  better  than  a  beast.  An  the  worst  fall  that  ever 
fell,  I  hope  I  shall  make  shift  to  go  without  him. 

Nerissa.  If  he  should  offer  to  choose,  and  choose  the  right 
casket,  you  should  refuse  to  perform  your  father's  will,  if  you 
should  refuse  to  accept  him.  81 

Portia.  Therefore,  for  fear  of  the  worst,  I  pray  thee,  set  a 
deep  glass  of  Rhenish  wine  on  the  contrary  casket ;  for  if 
the  devil  be  within  and  that  temptation  without,  I  know  he 
will  choose  it.  I  will  do  any  thing,  Nerissa,  ere  I  will  be  mar- 
ried to  a  sponge. 

Nerissa.  You  need  not  fear,  lady,  the  having  any  of  these 
lords:  they  have  acquainted  me  with  their  determinations; 
which  is,  indeed,  to  return  to  their  home,  and  to  trouble  you 
with  no  more  suit,  unless  you  may  be  won  by  some  other  sort 
than  your  father's  imposition  depending  on  the  caskets.  91 

Portia.  If  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  Sibylla,  I  will  die  as  chaste 
as  Diana,  unless  I  be  obtained  by  the  manner  of  my  father's 

I) 


50  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

will.  I  am  glad  this  parcel  of  wooers  are  so  reasonable,  for 
there  is  not  one  among  them  but  I  dote  on  his  very  absence  ; 
and  I  wish  them  a  fair  departure. 

Nerissa.  Do  you  not  remember,  lady,  jn  your  father's  time, 
a  Venetian,  a  scholar  and  a  soldier,  that  came  hither  in  com- 
pany of  the  Marquis  of  Montferrat  ? 

Portia.  Yes,  yes,  it  was  Bassanio ;  as  I  think,  so  was  he 
called.  joi 

Nerissa.  True,  madam ;  he,  of  all  the  men  that  ever  my 
foolish  eyes  looked  upon,  was  the  best  deserving  a  fair  lady. 

Portia.  I  remember  him  well,  and  I  remember  him  worthy 
of  thy  praise. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Servant.  The  four  strangers  seek  for  you,  madam,  to  take 
their  leave;  and  there  is  a  forerunner  come  from  a  fifth,  the. 
Prince  of  Morocco,  who  brings  word  the  prince  his  master 
will  be  here  to-night.  iog 

Portia.  If  I  could  bid  the  fifth  welcome  with  so  good  heart 
as  I  can  bid  the  other  four  farewell,  I  should  be  glad  of  his 
approach  ;  if  he  have  the  condition  of  a  saint,  and  the  com- 
plexion of  a  devil,  I  had  rather  he  should  shrive  me  than 
wive  me. 

Come,  Nerissa. — Sirrah,  go  before. — 

Whiles  we  shut  the  gates  upon  one  wooer,  another  knocks  at 
the  door.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.      Venice.     A  Public  Place. 
Enter  BASSANIO  and  SHYLOCK. 

Shylock.  Three  thousand  ducats, — well. 

Bassanio,  Ay,  sir,  for  three  months. 

Shylock.  For  three  months, — well. 

Bassanio.  For  the  which,  as  I  told  you,  Antonio  shall  be  bound. 

Shylock.  Antonio  shall  become  bound, — well. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  III.  5I 

Bassanio.  May  you  stead  me  ?  Will  you  pleasure  me  ? 
Shall  I  know  your  answer? 

Shylock.  Three  thousand  ducats  for  three  months,  and  An- 
tonio bound. 

Bassanio.  Your  answer  to  that.  n 

Shylock.  Antonio  is  a  good  man. 

Bassanio.  Have  you  heard  any  imputation  to  the  contrary  ? 

Shylock.  Ho,  no,  no,  no,  no;  my  meaning,  in  saying  he  is 
a  good  man,  is  to  have  you  understand  me  that  he  is  suffi- 
cient. Yet  his  means  are  in  supposition  :  he  hath  an  argosy 
bound  to  Tripolis,  another  to  the  Indies  ;  I  understand,  more- 
over, upon  the  Rialto,  he  hath  a  third  at  Mexico,  a  fourth  for 
England,  and  other  ventures  he  hath,  squandered  abroad. 
But  ships  are  but  boards,  sailors  but  men  :  there  be  land- 
rats  and  water-rats,  land-thieves  and  water-thieves, — I  mean 
pirates ;  and  then  there  is  the  peril  of  waters,  winds,  and 
rocks.  The  man  is,  notwithstanding,  sufficient.  Three  thou- 
sand ducats, — I  think  I  may  take  his  bond.  23 

Bassanio.  Be  assured  you  may. 

Shylock.  I  will  be  assured  I  may;  and  that  I  may  be  as- 
sured, I  will  bethink  me.  May  I  speak  with  Antonio? 

Bassanio.  If  it  please  you  to  dine  with  us. 

Shylock.  Yes,  to  smell  pork  ;  to  eat  of  the  habitation  which 
your'prophet,  the  Nazarite,  conjured  the  devil  into.  I  will 
buy  with  you,  sell  with  you,  talk  with  you,  walk  with  you,  and 
so  following;  but  I  will  not  eat  with  you,  drink  with  you,  nor 
pray  with  you. — What  news  on  the  Rialto  ? — Who  is  he  comes 
here  ?  33 

Enter  ANTONIO. 

Bassanio.  This  is  Signior  Antonio. 

Shylock.  \Aside\  How  like  a  fawning  publican  he  looks  ! 
I  hate  him  for  he  is  a  Christian, 
But  more  for  that,  in  low  simplicity, 
He  lends  out  money  gratis,  and  brings  down 


52  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

The  rate  of  usance  here  with  us  in  Venice. 

If  I  can  catch  him  once  upon  the  hip,  40 

I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge  I  bear  him. 

He  hates  our  sacred  nation;  and  he  rails, 

Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate, 

On  me,  my  bargains,  and  my  well-won  thrift, 

Which  he  calls  interest.     Cursed  be  my  tribe, 

If  I  forgive  him  ! 

Bassanio.  Shylock,  do  you  hear  ? 

Shylock.  I  am  debating  of  my  present  store  ; 
And,  by  the  near  guess  of  my  memory, 
I  cannot  instantly  raise  up  the  gross 

Of  full  three  thousand  ducats.     What  of  that  ?  5o 

Tubal,  a  wealthy  Hebrew  of  my  tribe, 
Will  furnish  me.     But  soft !  how  many  months 
Do  you  desire  ? — [To  Antonio]  Rest  you    fair,  good  signior  ; 
Your  worship  was  the  last  man  in  our  mouths. 

Antonio.  Shylock,  albeit  I  neither  lend  nor  borrow 
By  taking  nor  by  giving  of  excess, 
Yet,  to  supply  the  ripe  wants  of  my  friend, 
I  '11  break  a  custom. — Is  he  yet  possess'd 
How  much  you  would  ? 

Shylock.  Ay,  ay,  three  thousand  ducats. 

Antonio.  And  for  three  months.  60 

Shylock.   I  had  forgot, — three  months  ;  you  told  me  so. 
Well  then,  your  bond ;  and  let  me  see — but  hear  you  : 
Methought  you  said  you  neither  lend  nor  borrow 
Upon  advantage. 

Antonio.  I  do  never  use  it. 

Shylock.  When  Jacob  graz'd  his  uncle  Laban's  sheep — 
This  Jacob  from  our  holy  Abram  was, 
As  his  wise  mother  wrought  in  his  behalf, 
The  third  possessor;  ay,  he  was  the  third — 

Antonio.   And  what  of  him?  did  he  take  interest? 

Shylock.   No,  not  take  interest,  not,  as  you  would  say,       7° 


ACT  I.    SCENE  III. 


53 


Directly  interest ;  mark  what  Jacob  did. 

When  Laban  and  himself  were  compromis'd 

That  all  the  eanlings  which  were  streak'd  and  pied 

Should  fall  as  Jacob's  hire, 

The  skilful  shepherd  pill'd  me  certain  wands, 

And  stuck  them  up  before  the  fulsome  ewes, 

Who,  then  conceiving,  did  in  eaning  time 

Fall  parti-colour'd  lambs;  and  those  were  Jacob's. 

This  was  a  way  to  thrive,  and  he  was  blest ; 

And  thrift  is  blessing,  if  men  steal  it  not.  So 

Antonio.  This  was  a  venture,  sir,  that  Jacob  serv'd  for  ; 
A  thing  not  in  his  power  to  bring  to  pass, 
But  sway'd  and  fashion'd  by  the  hand  of  heaven. 
Was  this  inserted  to  make  interest  good? 
Or  is  your  gold  and  silver  ewes  and  rams  ? 

Shylock.  I  cannot  tell ;  I  make  it  breed  as  fast. — 
But  note  me,  signior. 

Antonio.  Mark  you  this,  Bassanio, 

The  devil  can  cite  Scripture  for  his  purpose. 
An  evil  soul,  producing  holy  witness, 

Is  like  a  villain  with  a  smiling  cheek,  90 

A  goodly  apple  rotten  at  the  heart. 
O,  what  a  goodly  outside  falsehood  hath  ! 

Shylock.  Three  thousand  ducats, — 't  is  a  good  round  sum. 
Three  months  from  twelve, — then,  let  me  see  the  rate. 

Antonio.  Well,  Shylock,  shall  we  be  beholding  to  you  ? 

Shylock.  Signior  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oft, 
In  the  Rialto,  you  have  rated  me 
About  my  moneys  and  my  usances ; 
Still  have  I  borne  it  with  a  patient  shrug, 
For  sufferance  is  the  badge  of  all  our  tribe.  I0° 

You  call  me  misbeliever,  cut-throat  dog, 
And  spet  upon  my  Jewish  gaberdine, 
And  all  for  use  of  that  which  is  mine  own. 
Well  then,  it  now  appears  you  need  my  help : 


54 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Go  to,  then ;  you  come  to  me,  and  you  say, 

'  Shylock,  we  would  have  moneys:'  you  say  so, 

You,  that  did  void  your  rheum  upon  my  beard, 

And  foot  me  as  you  spurn  a  stranger  cur 

Over  your  threshold ;  moneys  is  your  suit. 

What  should  I  say  to  you?     Should  I  not  say,  no 

'Hath  a  dog  money  ?     Is  it  possible 

A  cur  should  lend  three  thousand  ducats  ?'     Or 

Shall  I  bend  low,  and  in  a  bondman's  key, 

With  bated  breath  and  whispering  humbleness, 

Say  this : 

'  Fair  sir,  you  spet  on  me  on  Wednesday  last ; 

You  spurn'd  me  such  a  day ;  another  time 

You  call'd  me  dog ;  and  for  these  courtesies 

I  '11  lend  you  thus  much  moneys  ?' 

Antonio.  I  am  as  like  to  call  thee  so  again,  I20 

To  spet  on  thee  again,  to  spurn  thee  too. 
If  thou  wilt  lend  this  money,  lend  it  not 
As  to  thy  friends;  for  when  did  friendship  take 
A  breed  of  barren  metal  of  his  friend  ? 
But  lend  it  rather  to  thine  enemy  ; 
Who  if  he  break,  thou  mayst  with  better  face 
Exact  the  penalty. 

Shylock.  Why,  look  you,  how  you  storm  ! 

I  would  be  friends  with  you,  and  have  your  love, 
Forget  the  shames  that  you  have  stain'd  me  with, 
Supply  your  present  wants,  and  take  no  doit  /30 

Of  usance  for  my  moneys,  and  you  '11  not  hear  me. 
This  is  kind  I  offer. 

Bassanio.  This  were  kindness. 

Shylock.  This  kindness  will  I  show. 

Go  with  me  to  a  notary ;  seal  me  there 
Your  single  bond  ;  and,  in  a  merry  sport, 
If  you  repay  me  not  on  such  a  day, 
In  such  a  place,  such  sum  or  sums  as  are 


ACT  I.     SCENE  III.  55 

Express'd  in  the  condition,  let  the  forfeit 

Be  nominated  for  an  equal  pound 

Of  your  fair  flesh,  to  be  cut  off  and  taken  MO 

In  what  part  of  your  body  pleaseth  me. 

Antonio.  Content,  i'  faith  ;  I  '11  seal  to  such  a  bond, 
And  say  there  is  much  kindness  in  the  Jew. 

Bassanio.  You  shall  not  seal  to  such  a  bond  for  me  ; 
I  '11  rather  dwell  in  my  necessity. 

Antonio.  Why,  fear  not,  man;  I  will  not  forfeit  it: 
Within  these  two  months — that  's  a  month  before 
This  bond  expires — I  do  expect  return 
Of  thrice  three  times  the  value  of  this  bond. 

Shylock.  O  father  Abram  !  what  these  Christians  are       '5° 
Whose  own  hard  dealings  teaches  them  suspect 
The  thoughts  of  others  ! — Pray  you,  tell  me  this  • 
If  he  should  break  his  day,  what  should  I  gain 
By  the  exaction  of  the  forfeiture? 
A  pound  of  man's  flesh,  taken  from  a  man, 
Is  not  so  estimable,  profitable  neither, 
As  flesh  of  muttons,  beefs,  or  goats.     I  say, 
To  buy  his  favour,  I  extend  this  friendship: 
If  he  will  take  it,  so  ;  if  not,  adieu  ; 
And,  for  my  love,  I  pray  you  wrong  me  not.  160 

Antonio.  Yes,  Shylock,  I  will  seal  unto  this  bond. 

Shylock.  Then  meet  me  forthwith  at  the  notary's. 
Give  him  direction  for  this  merry  bond, 
And  I  will  go  and  purse  the  ducats  straight, 
See  to  my  house,  left  in  the  fearful  guard 
Of  an  unthrifty  knave,  and  presently 
I  will  be  with  you.  \Exit. 

Antonio.  Hie  thee,  gentle  Jew. — 

The  Hebrew  will  turn  Christian  ;  he  grows  kind. 

Bassanio.  I  like  not  fair  terms  and  a  villain's  mind. 

Antonio.  Come  on  :  in  this  there  can  be  no  dismay  ;      170 
My  ships  come  home  a  month  before  the  day.  [Exeunt. 


THE   CASKETS. 


ACT  IT. 
SCENE  I.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portias  House. 

Flourish  of  Cornets.     Enter  the  PRINCE  OF  MOROCCO  and  his 

train  ;  PORTIA,  NERISSA,  and  others  attending. 
Morocco.  Mislike  me  not  for  my  complexion, 
The  shadow'd  livery  of  the  burnish'cl  sun, 
To  whom  I  am  a  neighbour  and  near  bred. 
Bring  me  the  fairest  creature  northward  born, 
Where  Phcebus'  fire  scarce  thaws  the  icicles, 
And  let  us  make  incision  for  your  love, 
To  prove  whose  blood  is  reddest,  his  or  mine. 
I  tell  thee,  lady,  this  aspect  of  mine 
Hath  fear'd  the  valiant;  by  my  love,  I  swear 
The  best-regarded  virgins  of  our  clime  10 

Have  lov'd  it  too.     I  would  not  change  this  hue, 
Except  to  steal  your  thoughts,  my  gentle  queen. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  I.  57 

Portia.  In  terms  of  choice  I  am  not  solely  led 
By  nice  direction  of  a  maiden's  eyes  ; 
Besides,  the  lottery  of  my  destiny 
Bars  me  the  right  of  voluntary  choosing; 
But  if  my  father  had  not  scanted  me, 
And  hedg'd  me  by  his  wit,  to  yield  myself 
His  wife  who  wins  me  by  that  means  I  told  you, 
Yourself,  renowned  prince,  then  stood  as  fair  20 

As  any  comer  I  have  look'd  on  yet, 
For  my  affection. 

Morocco.  Even  for  that  I  thank  you ; 

Therefore,  I  pray  you,  lead  me  to  the  caskets 
To  try  my  fortune.     By  this  scimitar, 
That  slew  the  Sophy  and  a  Persian  prince 
That  won  three  fields  of  Sultan  Solyman, 
I  would  o'er-stare  the  sternest  eyes  that  look, 
Outbrave  the  heart  most  daring  on  the  earth, 
Pluck  the  young  sucking  cubs  from  the  she-bear, 
Yea,  mock  the  lion  when  he  roars  for  prey,  30 

To  win  thee,  lady.     But,  alas  the  while! 
If  Hercules  and  Lichas  play  at  dice 
Which  is  the  better  man,  the  greater  throw 
May  turn  by  fortune  from  the  weaker  hand: 
So  is  Alcides  beaten  by  his  page  ; 
And  so  may  I,  blind  fortune  leading  me, 
Miss  that  which  one  unworthier  may  attain, 
And  die  with  grieving. 

Portia.  You  must  take  your  chance  ; 

And  either  not  attempt  to  choose  at  all, 
Or  swear,  before  you  choose,  if  you  choose  wrong  4c 

Never  to  speak  to  lady  afterward 
In  way  of  marriage:  therefore  be  advis'd. 

Morocco.  Nor  will  not.     Come,  bring  me  unto  my  chance. 

Portia.  First,  forward  to  the  temple ;  after  dinner 
Your  hazard  shall  be  made. 


5 8  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Morocco.  Good  fortune  then  ! 

To  make  me  blest  or  cursed'st  among  men. 

{Cornets^  and  exetint. 


SCENE  II.      Venice.     A  Street. 

Enter  LAUNCELOT. 

Launcelot.  Certainly  my  conscience  will  serve  me  to  run 
from  this  Jew  my  master.  The  fiend  is  at  mine  elbow  and 
tempts  me,  saying  to  me,  'Gobbo,  Launcelot  Gobbo,  good 
Launcelot,'  or  '  good  Gobbo,'  or  '  good  Launcelot  Gobbo^  use 
your  legs,  take  the  start,  run  away.'  My  conscience  says, 
'  No;  take  heed,  honest  Launcelot ;  take  heed,  honest  Gob- 
bo,' or,  as  aforesaid, '  honest  Launcelot  Gobbo  ;  do  not  run  ; 
scorn  running  with  thy  heels.'  Well,  the  most  courageous 
fiend  bids  me  pack  :  '  Via!'  says  the  fiend  ;  'away  !'  says  the 
fiend;  'for  the  heavens,  rouse  up  a  brave  mind,'  says  the 
fiend,  'and  run.'  Well,  my  conscience,  hanging  about  the 
neck  of  my  heart,  says  very  wisely  to  me,  '  My  honest  friend 
Launcelot,  being  an  honest  man's  son,' — or  rather  an  honest 
woman's  son, — well,  my  conscience  says,  '  Launcelot,  budge 
not.'  '  Budge,'  says  the  fiend.  '  Budge  not,'  says  my  con- 
science. 'Conscience,'  say  I,  'you  counsel  well;'  'Fiend,' 
say  I, '  you  counsel  well :'  to  be  ruled  by  my  conscience,  I 
should  stay  with  the  Jew  my  master,  who,  God  bless  the 
mark,  is  a  kind  of  devil;  and,  to  run  away  from  the  Jew,  I 
should  be  ruled  by  the  fiend,  who,  saving  your  reverence,  is 
the  devil  himself.  Certainly  the  Jew  is  the  very  devil  incarna- 
tion ;  and,  in  my  conscience,  my  conscience  is  a  kind  of  hard 
conscience,  to  offer  to  counsel  me  to  stay  with  the  Jew.  The 
fiend  gives  the  more  friendly  counsel :  I  will  run,  fiend;  my 
heels  are  at  your  commandment ;  I  will  run.  25 

Enter  Old  GOBBO,  with  a  basket. 

Gobbo.  Master  young  man,  you !  I  pray  you,  which  is  the 
way  to  master  Jew's? 


ACT  II.     SCENE  II.  59 

Launcelot.  [Aside]  O  heavens !  this  is  my  true-begotten 
father,  who,  being  more  than  sand-blind,  high-gravel-blind, 
knows  me  not. — I  will  try  confusions  with  him.  30 

Gobbo.  Master  young  gentleman,  I  pray  you,  which  is  the 
way  to  master  Jew's  ? 

Launcelot.  Turn  up  on  your  right  hand  at  the  next  turning, 
but  at  the  next  turning  of  all,  on  your  left ;  marry,  at  the 
very  next  turning,  turn  of  no  hand,  but  turn  down  indirectly 
to  the  Jew's  house. 

Gobbo.  By  God's  sonties,  't  will  be  a  hard  way  to  hit.  Can 
you  tell  me  whether  one  Launcelot,  that  dwells  with  him, 
dwell  with  him  or  no? 

Launcelot.  Talk  you  of  young  Master  Launcelot  ? — [Aside] 
Mark  me  now  ;  now  will  I  raise  the  waters. — \To  him]  Talk 
you  of  young  Master  Launcelot  ?  42 

Gobbo.  No  master,  sir,  but  a  poor  man's  son  ;  his  father, 
though  I  say  't,  is  an  honest  exceeding  poor  man,  and,  God 
be  thanked,  well  to  live. 

Launcelot.  Well,  let  his  father  be  what  a'  will,  we  talk  of 
young  Master  Launcelot. 

Gobbo.  Your  worship's  friend  and  Launcelot. 

Launcelot.  But  I  pray  you,  ergo,  old  man,  ergo,  I  beseech 
you,  talk  you  of  young  Master  Launcelot  ?  so 

Gobbo.  Of  Launcelot,  an  't  please  your  mastership. 

Launcelot.  Ergo,  Master  Launcelot.  Talk  not  of  Master 
Launcelot,  father ;  for  the  young  gentleman — according  to 
fates  and  destinies  and  such  odd  sayings,  the  sisters  three 
and  such  branches  of  learning — is  indeed  deceased,  or,  as 
you  would  say  in  plain  terms,  gone  to  heaven. 

Gobbo.  Marry,  God  forbid  !  the  boy  was  the  very  staff  of 
my  age,  my  very  prop. 

Launcelot.  \Aside~\  Do  I  look  like  a  cudgel  or  a  hovel-post, 
a  staff  or  a  prop?  [To  Aim]  Do  you  know  me,  father?  60 

Gobbo.  Alack  the  day  !  I  know  you  not,  young  gentleman  ; 
but,  I  pray  you,  tell  me,  is  my  boy — God  rest  his  soul ! — alive 
or  dead  ? 


60  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Launcelot.  Do  you  not  know  me,  father? 

Gobbo.   Alack,  sir,  I  am  sand-blind  ;  I  know  you  not. 

Launcelot.  Nay,  indeed,  if  you  had  your  eyes,  you  might 
fail  of  the  knowing  me ;  it  is  a  wise  father  that  knows  his 
own  child.  Well,  old  man,  I  will  tell  you  news  of  your  son. 
[Jfneets.]  Give  me  your  blessing:  truth  will  come  to  light ; 
murther  cannot  be  hid  long;  a  man's  son  may,  but  in  the 
end  truth  will  out.  71 

Gobbo.  Pray  you,  sir,  stand  up.  I  am  sure  you  are  not 
Launcelot,  my  boy. 

Launcelot.  Pray  you,  let's  have  no  more  fooling  about  it, 
but  give  me  your  blessing ;  1  am  Launcelot,  your  boy  that 
was,  your  son  that  is,  your  child  that  shall  be. 

Gobbo.  I  cannot  think  you  are  my  son. 

Launcelot.  I  know  not  what  I  shall  think  of  that ;  but  I  am 
Launcelot,  the  Jew's  man,  and  I  am  sure  Margery  your  wife 
is  my  mother.  80 

Gobbo.  Her  name  is  Margery,  indeed  ;  I  '11  be  sworn,  if 
thou  be  Launcelot,  thou  art  mine  own  flesh  and  blood.  Lord 
worshipped  might  he  be!  what  a  beard  hast  thou  got!  thou 
hast  got  more  hair  on  thy  chin  than  Dobbin  my  fill-horse 
has  on  his  tail. 

Launcelot.  It  should  seem,  then,  that  Dobbin's  tail  grows 
backward  ;  I  am  sure  he  had  more  hair  of  his  tail  than  I 
have  of  my  face,  when  I  last  saw  him. 

Gobbo.  Lord !  how  art  thou  changed  !  How  dost  thou 
and  thy  master  agree  ?  I  have  brought  him  a  present.  How 
gree  you  now  ?  91 

Launcelot.  Well,  well ;  but,  for  mine  own  part,  as  I  have 
set  up  my  rest  to  run  away,  so  1  will  not  rest  till  I  have  run 
some  ground.  My  master's  a  very  Jew  :  give  him  a  present ! 
give  him  a  halter :  I  am  famished  in  his  service  ;  you  may 
tell  every  finger  I  have  with  my  ribs.  Father,  I  am  glad  you 
are  come  :  give  me  your  present  to  one  Master  Bassanio, 
who  indeed  gives  rare  new  liveries ;  if  I  serve  not  him,  I  will 


ACT  IL     SCENE  II.  6 1 

run  as  far  as  God  has  any  ground. — O  rare  fortune  !  here 
comes  the  man  : — to  him,  father ;  for  I  am  a  Jew  if  I  serve 
the  Jew  any  longer.  101 

Enter  BASSANIO,  with  LEONARDO  and  other  followers. 

Bassanio.  You  may  do  so  ;  but  let  it  be  so  hasted  that 
supper  be  ready  at  the  farthest  by  five  of  the  clock.  See 
these  letters  delivered  ;  put  the  liveries  to  making,  and  desire 
Gratiano  to  come  anon  to  my  lodging.  \Exit  a  Servant. 

Launcelot.  To  him,  father. 

Gobbo.  God  bless  your  worship  ! 

Bassanio.  Gramercy!  wouldst  thou  aught  with  me? 

Gobbo.   Here's  my  son,  sir,  a  poor  boy, — 

Launcelot.  Not  a  poor  boy,  sir,  but  the  rich  Jew's  man  ; 
that  would,  sir,  as  my  father  shall  specify, —  m 

Gobbo.  He  hath  a  great  infection,  sir,  as  one  would  say,  to 
serve — 

Launcelot.  Indeed,  the  short  and  the  long  is,  I  serve  the 
Jew,  and  have  a  desire,  as  my  father  shall  specify, — 

Gobbo.  His  master  and  he,  saving  your  worship's  rever- 
ence, are  scarce  cater-cousins — 

Launcelot.  To  be  brief,  the  very  truth  is,  that  the  Jew,  hav- 
ing done  me  wrong,  doth  cause  me,  as  my  father,  being,  I 
hope,  an  old  man,  shall  frutify  unto  you, —  120 

Gobbo.  I  have  here  a  dish  of  doves  that  I  would  bestow 
upon  your  worship  ;  and  my  suit  is — 

Launcelot.  In  very  brief,  the  suit  is  impertinent  to  myself, 
as  your  worship  shall  know  by  this  honest  old  man  ;  and, 
though  I  say  it,  though  old  man,  yet,  poor  man,  my  father. 

Bassanio.  One  speak  for  both. — What  would  you? 

Launcelot.   Serve  you,  sir. 

Gobbo.  That  is  the  very  defect  of  the  matter,  sir. 

Bassanio.  I  know  thee  well ;  thou  hast  obtain'd  thy  suit. 
Shylock  thy  master  spoke  with  me  this  day,  IJO 

And  hath  preferr'd  thee  ;  if  it  be  preferment 


62  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

To  leave  a  rich  Jew's  service,  to  become 
The  follower  of  so  poor  a  gentleman. 

Launcelot.  The  old  proverb  is  very  well  parted  between 
my  master  Shylock  and  you,  sir  ;  you  have  the  grace  of  God, 
sir,  and  he  hath  enough. 

Bassanio.  Thou  speak'st  it  well. — Go,  father, with  thy  son. — 
Take  leave  of  thy  old  master,  and  inquire 
My  lodging  out. — Give  him  a  livery  [To  his  followers. 

More  guarded  than  his  fellows' ;  see  it  done.  MO 

Launcelot.  Father,  in. — I  cannot  get  a  service,  no  ;  I  have 
ne'er  a  tongue  in  my  head. — Well,  if  any  man  in  Italy  have  a 
fairer  table  which  doth  offer  to  swear  upon  a  book  ! — I  shall 
have  good  fortune. — Go  to,  here  's  a  simple  line  of  life  !  here  's 
a  small  trifle  of  wives  :  alas!  fifteen  wives  is  nothing  !  aleven 
widows  and  nine  maids  is  a  simple  coming-in  for  one  man  ; 
and  then  to  scape  drowning  thrice,  and  to  be  in  peril  of  my 
life  with  the  edge  of  a  feather-bed, — here  are  simple  scapes. 
Well,  if  Fortune  be  a  woman,  she  's  a  good  wench  for  this 
gear. — Father,  come ;  I  '11  take  my  leave  of  the  Jew  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  [Exeunt  Launcelot  and  Old  Gobbo. 

Bassanio.  I  pray  thee,  good  Leonardo,  think  on  this.      152 
These  things  being  bought  and  orderly  bestow'd, 
Return  in  haste,  for  I  do  feast  to-night 
My  best-esteem 'd  acquaintance  ;  hie  thee,  go. 

Leonardo.  My  best  endeavours  shall  be  done  herein. 

Enter  GRATIANO. 
Gratiano.  Where  is  your  master? 

Leonardo.  Yonder,  sir,  he  walks.  \Exit. 

Gratiano.  Signior  Bassanio ! 
Bassanio.  Gratiano  ! 
Gratiano.  I  have  a  suit  to  you. 

Bassanio.  You  have  obtain'd  it.   160 

Gratiano.  You  must  not  deny  me.  I  must  go  with  you  to 
Belmont. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  III.  63 

Bassanio.  Why,  then  you  must.     But  hear  thee,  Gratiano  : 
Thou  art  too  wild,  too  rude,  and  bold  of  voice, — 
Parts  that  become  thee  happily  enough 
And  in  such  eyes  as  ours  appear  not  faults ; 
But  whece  they  are  not  known,  why,  there  they  show 
Something  too  liberal.     Pray  thee,  take  pain 
To  allay  with  some  cold  drops  of  modesty 
Thy  skipping  spirit,  lest  through  thy  wild  behaviour  170 

I  be  misconstrued  in  the  place  I  go  to, 
And  lose  my  hopes. 

Gratiano.  Signior  Bassanio,  hear  me  : 

If  I  do  not  put  on  a  sober  habit, 
Talk  with  respect,  and  swear  but  now  and  then, 
Wear  prayer-books  in  my  pocket,  look  demurely, 
Nay  more,  while  grace  is  saying,  hood  mine  eyes 
Thus  with  my  hat,  and  sigh,  and  say  '  amen,' 
Use  all  the  observance  of  civility, 
Like  one  well  studied  in  a  sad  ostent 
To  please  his  grandam,  never  trust  me  more.  180 

Bassanio.  Well,  we  shall  see  your  bearing. 

Gratiano.  Nay,  but  I  bar  to-night ;  you  shall  not  gauge  me 
By  what  we  do  to-night. 

Bassanio.  No,  that  were  pity  ; 

I  would  entreat  you  rather  to  put  on 
Your  boldest  suit  of  mirth,  for  we  have  friends 
That  purpose  merriment.     But  fare  you  well ; 
I  have  some  business. 

Gratiano.  And  I  must  to  Lorenzo  and  the  rest; 
But  we  will  visit  you  at  supper-time.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.     The  Same.     A  Room  in  ShylocKs  Hoitse. 
Enter  JESSICA  and  LAUNCELOT. 

jFessica.  I  am  sorry  thou  wilt  leave  my  father  so ; 
Our  house  is  hell,  and  thou,  a  merry  devil, 


64  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Didst  rob  it  of  some  taste  of  tediousness. 

But  fare  thee  well ;  there  is  a  ducat  for  thee. 

And,  Launcelot,  soon  at  supper  shalt  thou  see 

Lorenzo,  who  is  thy  new  master's  guest : 

Give  him  this  letter;  do  it  secretly; 

And  so  farewell ;  I  would  not  have  my  father 

See  me  in  talk  with  thee.  9 

Launcelot.  Adieu  !  tears  exhibit  my  tongue.  Most  beauti- 
ful pagan,  most  sweet  Jew,  adieu  !  these  foolish  drops  do 
somewhat  drown  my  manly  spirit;  adieu  ! 

Jessica.  Farewell,  good  Launcelot. —         \Exit  Launcelot. 
Alack,  what  heinous  sin  is  it  in  me 
To  be  asham'd  to  be  my  father's  child  ! 
But  though  I  am  a  daughter  to  his  blood, 
I  am  not  to  his  manners.     O  Lorenzo ! 
If  thou  keep  promise,  I  shall  end  this  strife, 
Become  a  Christian  and  thy  loving  wife.  {Exit. 

SCENE  IV.     The  Same.     A  Street. 
Enter  GRATIANO,  LORENZO,  SALARINO,  and  SALANIO. 

Lorenzo.  Nay,  we  will  slink  away  in  supper-time, 
Disguise  us  at  my  lodging,  and  return, 
All  in  an  hour. 
-  Gratiano.  We  have  not  made  good  preparation. 

Salarino.  We  have  not  spoke  us  yet  of  torch-bearers. 

Salanio.  'T  is  vile,  unless  it  may  be  quaintly  orcler'd, 
And  better,  in  my  mind,  not  undertook. 

Lorenzo.  'T  is  now  but  four  o'clock  ;  we  have  two  hours 
To  furnish  us. — 

Enter  LAUNCELOT,  with  a  letter. 

Friend  Launcelot,  what  's  the  news  ?      o 
Launcelot.  An  it  shall  please  you  to  break  up  this,  it  shall 
seem  to  signify. 


ACT  II.     SCENE  V.  65 

Lorenzo.  1  know  the  hand  :  in  faith,  't  is  a  fair  hand  ; 
And  whiter  than  the  paper  it  writ  on 
Is  the  fair  hand  that  writ. 

Gratiano.  Love-news,  in  faith. 

Launcelot.  By  your  leave,  sir. 

Lorenzo.  Whither  goest  thou? 

Launcelot.  Marry,  sir,  to  bid  my  old  master  the  Jew  to  sup 
to-night  with  my  new  master  the  Christian. 

Lorenzo.   Hold  here,  take  this. — Tell  gentle  Jessica 
I  will  not  fail  her ; — speak  it  privately.  20 

Go. — Gentlemen,  [Exit  Launcelot. 

Will  you  prepare  you  for  this  masque  to-night? 
I  am  provided  q£a  torch-bearer. 

Salarino.  Ay,  marry,  I  '11  be  gone  about  k  straight. 

Salanio.   And  so  will  I. 

Lorenzo.  Meet  me  and  Gratiano 

At  Gratiano's  lodging  some  hour  hence. 

Salarino.  'T  is  good  we  do  so.  [Exeunt  Salarino  and  Salanio. 

Gratiano.  Was  not  that  letter  from  fair  Jessica? 

Lorenzo.  I  must  needs  tell  thee  all.     She  hath  directed 
How  I  shall  take  her  from  her  father's  house,  30 

What  gold  and  jewels  she  is  furnish'd  with, 
What  page's  suit  she  hath  in  readiness. 
If  e'er  the  Jew  her  father  come  to  heaven, 
It  will  be  for  his  gentle  daughter's  sake; 
And  never  dare  misfortune  cross  her  foot, 
Unless  she  do  it  under  this  excuse, 
That  she  is  issue  to  a  faithless  Jew. 
Come,  go  with  me ;  peruse  this  as  thou  goest. 
Fair  Jessica  shall  be  my  torch-bearer.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V.     The  Same.     Before  ShylocWs  House. 

Enter  SHYLOCK  and  LAUNCELOT. 

Shylock.  Well,  thou  shalt  see  ;  thy  eyes  shall  be  thy  judge. 

E 


66  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

The  difference  of  old  Shylock  and  Bassanio: — 
What,  Jessica  ! — thou  shalt  not  gormandize, 
As  thou  hast  done  with  me, — what,  Jessica! — 
And  sleep  and  snore,  and  rend  apparel  out. — 
Why,  Jessica,  I  say  ! 

Launcelot.  Why,  Jessica ! 

Shylock.  Who  bids  thee  call  ?     I  do  not  bid  thee  call. 

Launcelot.  Your  worship  was  wont  to  tell  me  I  could  do 
nothing  without  bidding. 

Enter  JESSICA. 

Jessica.  Call  you  ?  what  is  your  will  ?  10 

Shylock.  I  am  bid  forth  to  supper,  Jessica; 
There  are  my  keys. — But  wherefore  should  I  go  ? 
I  am  not  bid  for  love ;  they  flatter  me  : 
But  yet  I  '11  go  in  hate,  to  feed  upon 
The  prodigal  Christian. — Jessica,  my  girl, 
Look  to  my  house. — I  am  right  loath  to  go  ; 
There  is  some  ill  a-brewing  towards  my  rest, 
For  I  did  dream  of  money-bags  to-night. 

Launcelot.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  go;  my  young  master  doth 
expect  your  reproach.  20 

Shylock.  So  do  I  his. 

Launcelot.  And  they  have  conspired  together; — I  will  not 
say  you  shall  see  a  masque;  but  if  you  do,  then  it  was  not 
for  nothing  that  my  nose  fell  a-bleeding  on  Black-Monday 
last  at  six  o'clock  i'  the  morning,  falling  out  that  year  on 
Ash-Wednesday  was  four  year  in  the  afternoon. 

Shylock.  What!  are  there  masques? — Hear  you  me,  Jessica: 
Lock  up  my  doors ;  and  when  you  hear  the  drum 
And  the  vile  squealing  of  the  wry-neck'd  fife, 
Clamber  not  you  up  to  the  casements  then,  3o 

Nor  thrust  your  head  into  the  public  street 
To  gaze  on  Christian  fools  with  varnish'd  faces, 
But  stop  my  house's  ears, — I  mean  my  casements : 


ACT  II.    SCENE   VI.  67 

Let  not  the  sound  of  shallow  foppery  enter 
My  sober  house. — By  Jacob's  staff,  I  swear, 
I  have  no  mind  of  feasting  forth  to-night; 
But  I  will  go. — Go  you  before  me,  sirrah  ; 
Say  I  will  come. 

Launcelot.  I  will  go  before,  sir. — Mistress,  look  out  at  win- 
dow, for  all  this  :  4° 
There  will  come  a  Christian  by, 
Will  be  worth  a  Jewess'  eye.                     [Exit. 

Shylock.  What  says  that  fool  of  Hagar's  offspring,  ha  ? 

Jessica.  His  words  were  '  Farewell,  mistress  ;'  nothing  else. 

Shylock.  The  patch  is  kind  enough,  but  a  huge  feeder  ; 
Snail-slow  in  profit,  and  he  sleeps  by  clay 
More  than  the  wild-cat:  drones  hive  not  with  me  ; 
Therefore  I  part  with  him,  and  part  with  him 
To  one  that  I  would  have  him  help  to  waste 
His  borrow'd  purse. — Well,  Jessica,  go  in  ;  s° 

Perhaps  I  will  return  immediately. 
Do  as  I  bid  you  ;  shut  doors  after  you  : 
Fast  bind,  fast  find  ; 
A  proverb  never  stale  in  thrifty  mind.  [Exit. 

Jessica.  Farewell ;  and  if  my  fortune  be  not  crost, 
I  have  a  father,  you  a  daughter,  lost.  [Exit. 

SCENE  VI.     The  Same. 
Enter  GRATIANO  and  SALARINO,  masqued. 

Gratiano.  This  is  the   pent-house  under  which   Lorenzo 
Desir'd  us  to  make  stand. 

Salarino.  His  hour  is  almost  past. 

Gratiano.  And  it  is  marvel  he  outdwells  his  hour, 
For  lovers  ever  run  before  the  clock. 

Salarino.  O,  ten  times  faster  Venus'  pigeons  fly 
To  seal  love's  bonds  new-made,  than  they  are  wont 
To  keep  obliged  faith  unforfeited  ! 


68  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Gratiano.  That  ever  holds.     Who  riseth  from  a  feast 
With  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down  ? 
Where  is  the  horse  that  doth  untread  again  10 

His  tedious  measures  with  the  unbated  fire 
That  he  did  pace  them  first  ?     All  things  that  are 
Are  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoy'd. 
How  like  a  younger,  or  a  prodigal, 
The  scarfed  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind ! 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return, 
With  over-weather'd  ribs  and  ragged  sails, 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggar'd  by  the  strumpet  wind  ! 

Salarino.  Here  comes  Lorenzo. — More  of  this  hereafter.  20 

Enter  LORENZO. 

Lorenzo.  Sweet  friends,  your  patience  for  my  long  abode  ; 
Not  I,  but  my  affairs,  have  made  you  wait : 
When  you  shall  please  to  play  the  thieves  for  wives, 
I  '11  watch  as  long  for  you  then. — Approach  ; 
Here  dwells  my  father  Jew. — Ho  !  who  's  within? 

Enter  JESSICA,  above,  in  boy's  clothes. 

Jessica.  Who  are  you  ?     Tell  me,  for  more  certainty, 
Albeit  I  '11  swear  that  I  do  know  your  tongue. 

Lorenzo.  Lorenzo,  and  thy  love. 

Jessica.  Lorenzo,  certain  ;  and  my  love  indeed, 
For  who  love  I  so  much  ?     And  now  who  knows  30 

But  you,  Lorenzo,  whether  I  am  yours? 

Lorenzo.   Heaven  and  thy  thoughts  are  witness  that  thou 
art. 

Jessica.  Here,  catch  this  casket;  it  is  worth  the  pains. 
I  am  glad  't  is  night,  you  do  not  look  on  me, 
For  I  am  much  asham'd  of  my  exchange  : 
But  love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 
The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit; 


ACT  II.     SCENE   VI. 


69 


For  if  they  could,  Cupid  himself  would  blush 
To  see  me  thus  transformed  to  a  boy. 

Lorenzo.  Descend,  for  you  must  be  my  torch-bearer.         40 

Jessica.  What,  must  I  hold  a  candle  to  my  shames  ? 
They  in  themselves,  good  sooth,  are  too-too  light. 
Why,  't  is  an  office  of  discovery,  love  ; 
And  I  should  be  obscur'd. 

Lorenzo.  So  are  you,  sweet, 

Even  in  the  lovely  garnish  of  a  boy. 
But  come  at  once  ; 

For  the  close  night  doth  play  the  runaway, 
And  we  are  stay'd  for  at  Bassanio's  feast. 

Jessica.  I  will  make  fast  the  doors,  and  gild  myself        50 
With  some  more  ducats,  and  be  with  you  straight.  [Exit  above. 

Gratiano.   Now,  by  my  hood,  a  Gentile  and  no  Jew. 

Lorenzo.   Beshrew  me  but  I  love  her  heartily ! 
For  she  is  wise,  if  I  can  judge  of  her  ; 
And  fair  she  is,  if  that  mine  eyes  be  true  ; 
And  true  she  is,  as  she  hath  prov'd  herself; 
And  therefore,  like  herself,  wise,  fair,  and  true, 
Shall  she  be  placed  in  my  constant  soul. — 

Enter  JESSICA,  below. 

What,  art  thou  come  ? — On,  gentlemen  ;  away  ! 
Our  masquing  mates  by  this  time  for  us  stay. 

[Exit  with  Jessica  and  Salarino. 

Enter  ANTONIO. 

Antonio.  Who  's  there  ?  60 

Gratiano.  Signior  Antonio  ! 

Antonio.   Fie,  fie,  Gratiano  !  where  are  all  the  rest? 
'T  is  nine  o'clock  ;  our  friends  all  stay  for  you. 
No  masque  to-night :  the  wind  is  come  about; 
Bassanio  presently  will  go  aboard. 
I  have  sent  twenty  out  to  seek  for  you. 


-jo  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VEWTCE. 

Gratiano.  I  am  glad  on  't ;  I  desire  no  more  delight  . 
Than  to  be  under  sail  and  gone  to-night.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  A^II.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 

Flourish   of  cornets.      Enter  PORTIA,  with  the   PRINCE   OF 

MOROCCO,  and  their  trains. 

Portia.  Go,  draw  aside  the  curtains,  and  discover 
The  several  caskets  to  this  noble  prince. — 
Now  make  your  choice. 

Morocco.  The  first,  of  gold,  who  this  inscription  bears, 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire.' 
The  second,  silver,  which  this  promise  carries, 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves.1 
This  third,  dull  lead,  with  warning  all  as  blunt, 
'  Who  chooseth  me  must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath.'1 
How  shall  I  know  if  I  do  choose  the  right  ? 

Portia.  The  one  of  them  contains  my  picture,  prince  ; 
If  3'ou  choose  that,  then  I  am  yours  withal. 

Morocco.  Some  god  direct  my  judgment !     Let  me  see  : 
I  will  survey  the  inscriptions  back  again. 
What  says  this  leaden  casket  ? 
'  Who  chooseth  me  must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath.' 
Must  give — for  what  ?     For  lead  ?     Hazard  for  lead  ? 
This  casket  threatens.     Men  that  hazard  all 
Do  it  in  hope  of  fair  advantages : 
A  golden  mind  stoops  not  to  shows  of  dross  ; 
I  '11  then  nor  give  nor  hazard  aught  for  lead. 
What  says  the  silver  with  her  virgin  hue? 
'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves? 
As  much  as  he  deserves  ?     Pause  there,  Morocco, 
And  weigh  thy  value  with  an  even  hand : 
If  thou  be'st  rated  by  thy  estimation, 
Thou  dost  deserve  enough  ;  and  yet  enough 
May  not  extend  so  far  as  to  the  lady  : 


ACT  II.    SCENE  VII.  "7! 

And  yet  to  be  afeard  of  my  deserving 

Were  but  a  weak  disabling  of  myself.  30 

As  much  as  I  deserve  ?     Why,  that  's  the  lady  : 

I  do  in  birth  deserve  her,  and  in  fortunes, 

In  graced  and  in  qualities  of  breeding; 

But  more  than  these,  in  love  I  do  deserve. 

What  if  I  stray'd  no  further,  but  chose  here  ? — 

Let  's  see  once  more  this  saying  grav'd  in  gold  : 

'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire? 

Why,  that 's  the  lady  :  all  the  world  desires  her  ; 

From  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  they  come, 

To  kiss  this  shrine,  this  mortal-breathing  saint.  4° 

The  Hyrcanian  deserts  and  the  vasty  wilds 

Of  wide  Arabia  are  as  throughfares  now 

For  princes  to  come  view  fair  Portia. 

The  watery  kingdom,  whose  ambitious  head 

Spets  in  the  face  of  heaven,  is  no  bar 

To  stop  the  foreign  spirits,  but  they  come, 

As  o'er  a  brook,  to  see  fair  Portia. 

One  of  these  three  contains  her  heavenly  picture. 

Is  't  like  that  lead  contains  her?     'T  were  damnation 

To  think  so  base  a  thought ;  h,were  too  gross  5° 

To  rib  her  cerecloth  in  the  obscure  grave. 

Or  shall  I  think  in  silver  she  's  immur'd, 

Being  ten  times  undervalued  to  tried  gold? 

O  sinful  thought !     Never  so  rich  a  gem 

Was  set  in  worse  than  gold.     They  have  in  England 

A  coin  that  bears  the  figure  of  an  angel 

Stamped  in  gold,  but  that  's  inscuVd  upon  ; 

But  here  an  angel  in  a  golden  bed 

Lies  all  within. — Deliver  me  the  key ; 

Here  do  I  choose,  and  thrive  I  as  I  may !  60 

Portia.  There,  take  it,  prince ;  and  if  my  form  lie  there, 
Then  I  am  yours.  \He  unlocks  the  golden  casket. 

Morocco.  O  hell !  what  have  we  here  ? 


72  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

A  carrion  death,  within  whose  empty  eye 
There  is  a  written  scroll !     I  '11  read  the  writing. 
'All  that  glisters  is  not  gold; 
Often  have  you  heard  that  told : 
Many  a  man  his  life  hath  sold, 
But  my  outside  to  behold; 
Gilded  tombs  do  worms  infold. 

Had  you  been  as  wise  as  bold,  70 

Young  in  limbs,  in  judgment  old, 
Your  answer  had  not  been  inscrolfd : 
Fare  you  well;  your  suit  is  cold.'' 
Cold,  indeed  ;  and  labour  lost : 
Then,  farewell,  heat,  and  welcome,  frost ! 
Portia,  adieu  !     I  have  too  griev'd  a  heart 
To  take  a  tedious  leave ;  thus  losers  part. 

[Exit  with  his  train. 

Portia.  A  gentle  riddance. — Draw  the  curtains  ;  go. 
Let  all  of  his  complexion  choose  me  so. 

[Exeunt.     Flourish  of  cornets. 

/ 
SCENE  VIII.      Venice.     A  Street. 

Enter  SALARINO  and  SALANIO. 

Salarino.  Why,  man,  I  saw  Bassanio  under  sail : 
With  him  is  Gratiano  gone  along  ; 
And  in  their  ship  I  am  sure  Lorenzo  is  not. 

Salanio.  The  villain  Jew  with  outcries  rais'd  the  duke, 
Who  went  with  him  to  search  Bassanio's  ship. 

Scdarino.  He  came  too  late,  the  ship  was  under  sail ; 
But  there  the  duke  was  given  to  understand 
That  in  a  gondola  were  seen  together 
Lorenzo  and  his  amorous  Jessica: 

Besides,  Antonio  certified  the  duke  »o 

They  were  not  with  Bassanio  in  his  ship. 

Salanio.  I  never  heard  a  passion  so  confus'd^ 


ACT  II.    SCENE  VIII. 

So  strange,  outrageous,  and  so  variable, 

As  the  dog  Jew  did  utter  in  the  streets  : 

'My  daughter  !     O  my  ducats  !     O  my  daughter  ! 

Fled  with  a  Christian  !     O  my  Christian  ducats  ! 

Justice -I  the  law  !  my  ducats,  and  my  daughter! 

A  sealed  bag,  two  sealed  bags  of  ducats, 

Of  double  ducats,  stolen  from  me  by  my  daughter ! 

And  jewels,  two  stones,  two  rich  and  precious  stones, 

Stolen  by  my  daughter  !     Justice  !  find  the  girl ; 

She  hath  the  stones  upon  her,  and  the  ducats.' 

Salarino.  Why,  all  the  boys  in  Venice  follow  him, 
Crying,  his  stones,  his  daughter,  and  his  ducats. 

Salanio.  Let  good  Antonio  look  he  keep  his  day, 
Or  he  shall  pay  for  this. 

Salarino.  Marry,  well  remember'd. 

I  reason'd  with  a  Frenchman  yesterday, 
Who  told  me,  in  the  narrow  seas  that  part 
The  French  and  English,  there  miscarried 
A  vessel  of  our  country  richly  fraught. 
I  thought  upon  Antonio  when  he  told  me, 
And  wish'd  in  silence  that  it  were  not  his. 

Salanio.  You  were  best  to  tell  Antonio  what  you  hear ; 
Yet  do  not  suddenly,  for  it  may  grieve  him. 

Salarino.  A  kinder  gentleman  treads  not  the  earth. 
I  saw  Bassanio  and  Antonio  part : 
Bassanio  told  him  he  would  make  some  speed 
Of  his  return  ;  he  answer'd, '  Do  not  so  ; 
Slubber  not  business  for  my  sake,  Bassanio, 
But  stay  the  very  riping  of  the  time; 
And  for  the  Jew's  bond  which  he  hath  of  me, 
Let  it  not  enter  in  your  mind  of  love. 
Be  merry,  and  employ  your  ch|efest  thoughts 
To  courtship,  and  such  fair  ostents  of  love 
As  shall  conveniently  become  you  there.' 
And  even  there,  his  eye  being  big  with  tears, 


73 


74  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Turning  his  face,  he  put  his  hand  behind  him, 

And  with  affection  wondrous  sensible 

He  wrung  Bassanio's  hand  ;  .and  so  they  parted. 

Salanio,  I  think  he  only  loves  the  world  for  him.  $•> 

I  pray  thee,  let  us  go  and  find  him  out, 
And  quicken  his  embraced  heaviness 
With  some  delight  or  other. 

Salarino.  Do  we  so.  ^Exeunt. 

SCENE  IX.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 
Enter  NERISSA  with  a  Servitor. 

Nerissa.  Quick,  quick,  I  pray  thee;  draw  the  curtain  straight: 
The  Prince  of  Arragon  hath  ta'en  his  oath, 
And  comes  to  his  election  presently. 

V 

Flourish  of  cornets.     Enter  the  PRINCE  OF  ARRAGON, 
PORTIA,  and  their  trains. 

Portia.  Behold,  there  stand  the  caskets,  noble  prince  • 
If  you  choose  that  wherein  I  am  contain'd, 
Straight  shall  our  nuptial  rites  be  solemniz'd  ; 
But  if  you  fail,  without  more  speech,  my  lord, 
You  must  be  gone  from  hence  immediately. 

Arragon.   I  am  enjoin'd  by  oath  to  observe  three  things: 
First,  never  to  unfold  to  any  one  ,0 

Which  casket  't  was  I  chose  ;  next,  if  I  fail 
Of  the  right  casket,  never  in  my  life 
To  woo  a  maid  in  way  of  marriage  ; 
Lastly,  if  I  do  fail  in  fortune  of  my  choice, 
Immediately  to  leave  you  and  be  gone. 

Portia.  To  these  injunctions  every  one  doth  swear 
That  comes  to  hazard  for  my  worthless  self. 

Arragon.  And  so  have  I  address'd  me.     Fortune  now 
To  my  heart's  hope  ! — Gold,  silver,  and  base  lead. 
lWho  chooseth  me  must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath.'  20 


ACT  II.    SCENE  IX.  75 

You  shall  look  fairer,  ere  I  give  or  hazard. 

What  says  the  golden  chest  ?  ha  !  let  me  see : 

'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire? 

What  many  men  desire  !  that  many  may  be  meant 

JBy  the  fool  multitude,  that  choose  by  show, 

Not  learning  more  than  the  fond  eye  doth  teach; 

Which  pries  not  to  the  interior,  but,  like  the  martlet, 

Builds  in  the  weather,  on  the  outward  wall, 

Even  in  the  force  and  road  of  casualty. 

I  will  not  choose  what  many  men  desire,  30 

Because  I  will  not  jump  with  common  spirits 

And  rank  me  with  the  barbarous  multitudes. 

Why,  then  to  thee,  thou  silver  treasure-house  ; 

Tell  me  once  more  what  title  thou  dost  bear : 

'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves  :' 

And  well  said  too  ;  for  who  shall  go  about 

To  cozen  fortune  and  be  honourable 

Without  the  stamp  of  merit?     Let  none  presume 

To  wear  an  undeserved  dignity. 

O,  that  estates,  degrees,  and  offices  40 

Were  not  deriv'd  corruptly,  and  that  clear  honour 

Were  purchas'd  by  the  merit  of  the  wearer! 

How  many  then  should  cover  that  stand  bare  ! 

How  many  be  commanded  that  command ! 

How  much  low  peasantry  would  then  be  glean'd 

From  the  true  seed  of  honour  ;  and  how  much  honour 

Pick'd  from  the  chaff  and  ruin  of  the  times, 

To  be  new-varnish'd !     WTell,  but  to  my  choice  : 

iWho  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves? 

I  will  assume  desert. — Give  me  a  key  for  this,  50 

And  instantly  unlock  my  fortunes  here. 

\He  opens  the  silver  casket. 

Portia.  Too  long  a  pause  for  that  which  you  find  there. 

Arragon.  What's  here  ?  the  portrait  of  a  blinking  idiot, 
Presenting  me  a  schedule  !     I  will  read  it. 


76  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

How  much  unlike  art  thou  to  Portia ! 

How  much  unlike  my  hopes  and  my  deservings  ! 

'  Who  chooseth  me  shall  have  as  much  as  he  deserves? 

Did  I  deserve  no  more  than  a  fool's  head  ? 

Is  that  my  prize  ?  are  my  deserts  no  better  ? 

Portia.  To  offend  and  judge  are  distinct  offices,  to 

And  of  opposed  natures. 

Arragon.  What  is  here  ? 

' 'The fire  seven  times  tried  this : 
Seven  times  tried  that  judgment  is, 
That  did  never  choose  amiss. 
Some  there  be  that  shadows  kiss  ; 
Such  have  but  a  shadow's  bliss. 
There  befools  alive,  Iwis, 
Silver1  d  o'er  ;  and  so  was  this. 
Take  what  wife  you  will  to  bed, 
I  will  ever  be  your  head :  70 

So  be  gone ;  you  are  sped? 
Still  more  fool  I  shall  appear 
By  the  time  I  linger  here  ; 
With  one  fool's  head  I  came  to  woo, 
But  I  go  away  with  two. — 
Sweet,  adieu !     I  '11  keep  my  oath, 
Patiently  to  bear  my  wroth. 

[Exeunt  Arragon  and  train. 
Portia.  Thus  hath  the  candle  sing'd  the  moth. 
O,  these  deliberate  fools !  when  they  do  choose, 
They  have  the  wisdom  by  their  wit  to  lose.  80 

Nerissa.  The  ancient  saying  is  no  heresy, — 
Hanging  and  wiving  goes  by  destiny. 
Portia.  Come,  draw  the  curtain,  Nerissa. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
Servant.  Where  is  my  lady  ? 
Portia.  Here  ;  what  would  my  lord  ? 


ACT  II.    SCENE  IX. 


77 


Servant.  Madam,  there  is  alighted  at  your  gate 
A  young  Venetian,  one  that  comes  before 
To  signify  the  approaching  of  his  lord, 
From  whom  he  bringeth  sensible  regreets  ; 
To  wit,  besides  commends  and  courteous  breath, 
Gifts  of  rich  value.     Yet  I  have  not  seen  & 

So  likely  an  ambassador  of  love  ; 
A  day  in  April  never  came  so  sweet, 
To  show  how  costly  summer  was  at  hand, 
As  this  fore-spurrer  comes  before  his  lord. 

Portia.  No  more,  I  pray  thee  ;  I  am  half  afeard 
Thou  wilt  say  anon  he  is  some  kin  to  thee, 
Thou  spend'st  such  high-day  wit  in  praising  him.  — 
Come,  come,  Nerissa  ;  for  I  long  to  see 
Quick  Cupid's  post  that  comes  so  mannerly.  90 

Nerissa.  Bassanio,  lord  Love,  if  thy  will  it  be  !      \_Exeunt. 


RIALTO  BRIDGE. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.     Venice.    A  Street. 
Enter  SALANIO  and  SALARINO. 

Salanio.  Now,  what  news  on  the  Rialto  ? 

Salarino.  Why,  yet  it  lives  there  unchecked  that  Antonio 
hath  a  ship  of  rich  lading  wracked  on  the  narrow  seas  ;  the 
Goodwins,  I  think  they  call  the  place  :  a  very  dangerous  flat 
and  fatal,  where  the  carcasses  of  many  a  tall  ship  lie  buried, 
as  they  say,  if  my  gossip  Report  be  an  honest  woman  of  her 
word.  7 

Salanio.  I  would  she  were  as  lying  a  gossip  in  that  as  ever 
knapped  ginger,  or  made  her  neighbours  believe  she  wept 
for  the  death  of  a  third  husband.  But  it  is  true,  without 


ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 


79 


any  slips  of  prolixity  or  crossing  the  plain  highway  of  talk, 
that  the  good  Antonio,  the  honest  Antonio,  —  O  that  I  had 
a  title  good  enough  to  keep  his  name  company  ! — 

Salarino.  Come,  the  full  stop. 

Salanio.  Ha !  what  sayest  thou  ? — Why,  the  end  is,  he 
hath  lost  a  ship. 

Salarino.  I  would  it  might  prove  the  end  of  his  losses  ! 

Salanio.  Let  me  say  amen  betimes,  lest  the  devil  cross 
my  prayer ;  for  here  he  comes  in  the  likeness  of  a  Jew. — 

Enter  SHYLOCK. 

How  now,  Shylock?  what  news  among  the  merchants?       20 

Shylock.  You  knew,  none  so  well,  none  so  well  as  you,  of 
my  daughter's  flight. 

Salarino.  That  's  certain  ;  I,  for  my  part,  knew  the  tailor 
that  made  the  wings  she  flew  withal. 

Salanio.  And  Shylock,  for  his  own  part,  knew  the  bird  was 
fledged ;  and  then  it  is  the  complexion  of  them  all  to  leave 
the  dam. 

Shylock.  My  own  flesh  and  blood  to  rebel !  28 

Salarino.  There  is  more  difference  between  thy  flesh  and 
hers  than  between  jet  and  ivory;  more  between  your  bloods 
than  there  is  between  red  wine  and  Rhenish.  But  tell  us, 
do  you  hear  whether  Antonio  have  had  any  loss  at  sea  or  no  ? 

Shylock.  There  I  have  another  bad  match  :  a  bankrupt,  a 
prodigal,  who  dare  scarce  show  his  head  on  the  Rialto  ;  a 
beggar,  that  was  used  to  come  so  smug  upon  the  mart ;  let 
him  look  to  his  bond :  he  was  wont  to  call  me  usurer  ;  let 
him  look  to  his  bond  :  he  was  wont  to  lend  money  for  a 
Christian  courtesy ;  let  him  look  to  his  bond. 

Salarino.  Why,  I  am  sure,  if  he  forfeit,  thou  wilt  not  take 
his  flesh  ;  what  's  that  good  for  ?  4o 

Shylock.  To  bait  fish  withal  ;  if  it  will  feed  nothing  else,  it 
will  feed  my  revenge.  He  hath  disgraced  me,  and  hindered 
me  half  a  million  ;  laughed  at  my  losses,  mocked  at  my  gains. 


8o  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

scorned  my  nation,  thwarted  my  bargains,  cooled  my  friends, 
heated  mine  enemies  ;  and  what  's  his  reason  ?  I  am  a  Jew. 
Hath  not  a  Jew  eyes  ?  hath  not  a  Jew  hands,  organs,  dimen- 
sions, senses,  affections,  passions  ?  fed  with  the  same  food, 
hurt  with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to  the  same  diseases, 
healed  by  the  same  means,  warmed  and  cooled  by  the  same 
winter  and  summer,  as  a  Christian  is  ?  If  you  prick  us,  do 
we  not  bleed  ?  if  you  tickle  us,  do  we  not  laugh  ?  if  you  poi- 
son us,  do  we  not  die  ?  and  if  you  wrong  us,  shall  we  not  re- 
venge ?  If  we  are  like  you  in  the  rest,  we  will  resemble  you 
in  that.  If  a  Jew  wrong  a  Christian,  what  is  his  humility? 
Revenge.  If  a  Christian  wrong  a  Jew,  what  should  his  suf- 
ferance be,  by  Christian  example  ?  Why,  revenge.  The  vil- 
lany  you  teach  me,  I  will  execute  ;  and  it  shall  go  hard  but 
I  will  better  the  instruction. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Servant.  Gentlemen,  my  master  Antonio  is  at  his  house, 
and  desires  to  speak  with  you  both.  &> 

Salarino.  We  have  been  up  and  down  to  seek  him. 

Enter  TUBAL. 

Salanio.  Here  comes  another  of  the  tribe  ;  a  third  cannot 
be  matched,  unless  the  devil  himself  turn  Jew. 

[Exeunt  Salanio,  Salarino,  and  Servant. 

Shylock.  How  now,  Tubal  ?  what  news  from  Genoa  ?  hast 
thou  found  my  daughter  ? 

Tubal.  I  often  came  where  I  did  hear  of  her,  but  cannot 
find  her.  67 

Shylock.  Why,  there,  there,  there,  there  !  a  diamond  gone, 
cost  me  two  thousand  ducats  in  Frankfort!  The  curse  nev-, 
er  fell  upon  our  nation  till  now;  I  never  felt  it  till  now;  two 
thousand  ducats  in  that ;  and  other  precious,  preciousjewels. 
I  would  my  daughter  were  dead  at  my  foot,  and  the  jewels 
in  her  ear !  Would  she  were  hearsed  at  my  foot,  and  the 


ACT  III.    SCENE  I.  8 1 

ducats  in  her  coffin  !  No  news  of  them  ? — Why,  so ;  and  I 
know  not  how  much  is  spent  in  the  search  :  why,  thou  loss 
upon  loss!  the  thief  gone  with  so  much,  and  so  much  to  find 
the  thief;  and  no  satisfaction,  no  revenge  :  nor  no  ill  luck 
stirring  but  what  lights  o'  my  shoulders ;  no  sighs  but  o'  my 
breathing;  no  tears  but  o'  my  shedding.  79 

Tubal.  Yes,  other  men  have  ill  luck  too.  Antonio,  as  I 
heard  in  Genoa, — 

Shylock.  What,  what,  what?  ill  luck,  ill  luck? 

Tubal,   Hath  an  argosy  cast  away,  coming  from  Tripolis. 

Shylock.   I  thank  God  !  I  thank  God  !    Is  it  true  ?  is  it  true  ? 

Tubal.  I  spoke  with  some  of  the  sailors  that  escaped  the 
wrack. 

Shylock.  I  thank  thee,  good  Tubal !  —  Good  news,  good 
news  !  ha,  ha  ! — Where  ?  in  Genoa  ? 

Tubal.  Your  daughter  spent  in  Genoa,  as  I  heard,  in  one 
night  fourscore  ducats.  90 

Shylock.  Thou  stick'st  a  dagger  in  me.  I  shall  never  see  my 
gold  again.  Fourscore  ducats  at  a  sitting  !  fourscore  ducats  ! 

Tubal.  There  came  divers  of  Antonio's  creditors  in  my 
company  to  Venice,  that  swear  he  cannot  choose  but  break. 

Shylock.  I  am  very  glad  of  it.  I  '11  plague  him  ;  I  '11  tor- 
ture him.  I  am  glad  of  it. 

Tubal.  One  of  them  showed  me  a  ring  that  he  had  of  your 
daughter  for  a  monkey. 

Shylock.  Out  upon  her !  Thou  torturest  me,  Tubal :  it 
was  my  turquoise  ;  I  had  it  of  Leah  when  I  was  a  bachelor : 
I  would  not  have  given  it  for  a  wilderness  of  monkeys.  101 

Tubal.  But  Antonio  is  certainly  undone. 

Shylock.  Nay,  that 's  true,  that  's  very  true.  Go,  Tubal,  fee 
me  an  officer  ;  bespeak  him  a  fortnight  before.  I  will  have 
the  heart  of  him,  if  he  forfeit ;  for,  were  he  out  of  Venice,  I 
can  make  what  merchandise  I  will.  Go,  go,  Tubal,  and 
meet  me  at  our  synagogue:  go,  good  Tubal;  at  our  syna- 
gogue, Tubal.  {Exeunt. 

F 


82  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


0  SCENE  II.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 

Enter  BASSANIO,  PORTIA,  GRATIANO,  NERISSA,  and  Atten- 
dants. 

Portia.  I  pray  you,  tarry  :  pause  a  day  or  two 
Before  you  hazard  ;  for,  in  choosing  wrong, 

1  lose  your  company  :  therefore  forbear  a  while. 
There  's  something  tells  me,  but  it  is  not  love, 

I  would  not  lose  you ;  and  you  know  yourself, 

Hate  counsels  not  in  such  a  quality. 

But  lest  you  should  not  understand  me  well, — 

And  yet  a  maiden  hath  no  tongue  but  thought, — 

I  would  detain  you  here  some  month  or  two, 

Before  you  venture  for  me.     I  could  teach  you  10 

How  to  choose  right,  but  then  I  am  forsworn  ; 

So  will  I  never  be  :  so  may  you  miss  me  ; 

But  if  you  do,  you  '11  make  me  wish  a  sin, 

That  I  had  been  forsworn.     Beshrew  your  eyes, 

They  have  o'erlook'd  me  and  divided  me ; 

One  half  of  me  is  yours,  the  other  half  yours, — 

Mine  own,  I  would  say  ;  but  if  mine,  then  yours, 

And  so  all  yours.     O,  these  naughty  times 

Put  bars  between  the  owners  and  their  rights  ! 

And  so,  though  yours,  not  yours.     Prove  it  so,  20 

Let  fortune  go  to  hell  for  it,  not  I. 

I  speak  too  long ;  but  't  is  to  peize  the  time, 

To  eke  it,  and  to  draw  it  out  in  length, 

To  stay  you  from  election. 

Bassanio.  Let  me  choose  ; 

For  as  I  am,  I  live  upon  the  rack. 

Portia.  Upon  the  rack,  Bassanio  !  then  confess 
What  treason  there  is  mingled  with  your  love. 

Bassanio.  None  but  that  ugly  treason  of  mistrust, 
Which  makes  me  fear  the  enjoying  of  my  love. 


ACT  III.    SCENE  II.  83 

There  may  as  well  be  amity  and  life  30 

'Tween  snow  and  fire,  as  treason  and  my  love. 

Portia.  Ay,  but  I  fear  you  speak  upon  the  rack, 
Where  men  enforced  do  speak  any  thing. 

Bassanio.  Promise  me  life,  and  I  '11  confess  the  truth. 

Portia.  Well  then,  confess  and  live. 

Bassanio.  Confess  and  love 

Had  been  the  very  sum  of  my  confession. 

0  happy  torment,  when  my  torturer 
Doth  teach  me  answers  for  deliverance  ! 

But  let  me  to  my  fortune  and  the  caskets.       _i 

Poftia.  Away,  then  !     I  am  lock'd  in  one  of  them  ;  40 

If  you  do  love  me,  you  will  find  me  out. — 
Nerissa  and  the  rest,  stand  all  aloof. — 
Let  music  sound  while  he  doth  make  his  choice ; 
Then,  if  he  lose,  he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 
Fading  in  music :  that  the  comparison 
May  stand  more  proper,  my  eye  shall  be  the  stream 
And  watery  death-bed  for  him.     He  may  win ; 
And  what  is  music  then  ?     Then  music  is 
Even  as  the  flourish  when  true  subjects  bow 
To  a  new-crowned  monarch  ;  such  it  is  50 

As  are  those  dulcet  sounds  i_n_  break  of  day 
That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear, 
And  summon  him  to  marriage.     Now  he  goes, 
With  no  less  presence,  but  with  much  more  love, 
Than  young  Alcides,  when  he  did  redeem 
The  virgin  tribute  paid  by  howling  Troy 
To  the  sea-monster :  I  stand  for  sacrifice  ; 
The  rest  aloof  are  the  Dardanian  wives, 
With  bleared  visages,  come  forth  to  view 
The  issue  of  the  exploit.     Go,  Hercules !  ^ 

Live  thou,  I  live. — With  much  more  dismay 

1  view  the  fight,  than  thou  that  mak'st  the  fray. 


84  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

A  Song,  whilst  BASSANIO  comments  on  the  caskets  to  himself. 

Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred, 
Of  in  the  heart  or  in  the  head? 
How  begot,  /ww  nourished  t 
Reply,  reply. 

It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes, 

With  gazing  fed ;  and  fancy  dies 

In  the  cradle  where  it  lies. 

Let  us  all  ring  fancy's  knell :  ?0 

/  '//  begin  it,  — Ding,  dong,  bell. 

All.   Ding,  dong,  bell. 

Bassanio.   So  may  the  outward  shows  be  least  themselves  ; 
The  world  is  still  deceiv'd  with  ornament. 
In  law,  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt 
But,  being  season'd  with  a  gracious  voice, 
Obscures  the  show  of  evil  ?     In  religion, 
What  damned  error,  but  some  sober  brow 
Will  bless  it,  and  approve  it  with  a  text, 
Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament?  So 

There  is  no  vice  so  simple  but  assumes 
Some  mark  of  virtue  on  his  outward  parts  : 
How  many  cowards,  whose  hearts  are  all  as  false 
As  stairs  of  sand,  wear  yet  upon  their  chins 
The  beards  of  Hercules  and  frowning  Mars, 
Who,  inward  search'd,  have  livers  white  as  milk  ; 
And  these  assume  but  valour's  excrement 
To  render  them  redoubted!     Look  on  beauty, 
And  you  shall  see  't  is  purchas'd  by  the  weight, 
Which  therein  works  a  miracle  in  nature,  90 

Making  them  lightest  that  wear  most  of  it. 
So  are  those  crisped  snaky  golden  locks, 
Which  make  such  wanton  gambols  with  the  wind, 
Upon  supposed  fairness,  often  known 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II.  85 

To  be  the  dowry  of  a  second  head, 

The  skull  that  bred  them  in  the  sepulchre. 

Thus  ornament  is  but  the  guiled  shore 

To  a  most  dangerous  sea,  the  beauteous  scarf 

Veiling  an  Indian  beauty; — in  a  word, 

The  seeming  truth  which  cunning  times  put  on 

To  entrap  the  wisest.     Thererbre,  thou  gaudy  gold, 

Hard  food  for  Midas,  I  will  none  of  thee  ; 

Nor  none  of  thee,  thou  pale  and  common  drudge 

'Tween  man  and  man  :  but  thou,  thou  meagre  lead, 

Which  rather  threatenest  than  dost  promise  aught, 

Thy  plainness  moves  me  more  than  eloquence  ; 

And  here  choose  I.     Joy  be  the  consequence ! 

Portia.  \Aside\  How  all  the  other  passions  fleet  to  air, 
As  doubtful  thoughts,  and  rash-embrac'd  despair, 
And  shuddering  fear,  and  green-eyed  jealousy  !  1IO 

0  love  !  be  moderate;  allay  thy  ecstasy; 
In  measure  rain  thy  joy  ;  scant  this  excess. 

1  feel  too  much  thy  blessing  ;  make  it  less, 
Foi  fear  I  surfeit. 

Bassanio.  What  find  I  here  ? 

^Opening  the  leaden  casket. 
Fair  Portia's  counterfeit !     What  demigod 
Hath  come  so  near  creation?     Move  these  eyes? 
Or  wheiher,  riding  on  the  balls  of  mine, 
Seem  they  in  motion  ?     Here  are  sever'd  lips, 
Parted  with  sugar  breath  ;  so  sweet  a  bar 
Should  sunder  such  sweet  friends.     Here  in  her  hairs        120 
The  painter  plays  the  spider,  and  hath  woven 
A  golden  mesh  to  entrap  the  hearts  of  men 
Faster  than  gnats  in  cobwebs  ;  but  her  eyes  ! — 
How  could  he  see  to  do  them  ?  having  made  one, 
Methinks  it  should  have  power  to  steal  both  his, 
And  leave  itself  unfurnish'd.     Yet  look,  how  far 
The  substance  of  my  praise  doth  wrong  this  shadow 


86  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

In  underprizing  it,  so  far  this  shadow 

Doth  limp  behind  the  substance. — Here's  the  scroll, 

The  continent  and  summary  of  my  fortune.  130 

'  You  that  choose  not  by  the  view, 
Chance  as  fair,  and  choose  as  true  ! 
Since  this  fortune  falls  to  you, 
Be  content  and  seek  no  new. 
If  you  be  well  pleas'*  d  with  this, 
And  hold  your  fortune  for  your  bliss, 
Turn  you  where  your  lady  is, 
And  claim  her  with  a  loving  kiss. ' 

A  gentle  scroll. — Fair  lady,  by  your  leave  ; 

I  come  by  note,  to  give  and  to  receive.  [Kissing  her. 

Like  one  of  two  contending  hi  a  prize,  141 

That  thinks  he  hath  done  well  in  people's  eyes, 

Hearing  applause  and  universal  shout, 

Giddy  in  spirit,  still  gazing  in  a  doubt 

Whether  those  peals  of  praise  be  his  or  no  ; 

So,  thrice-fair  lady,  stand  I,  even  so, 

As  doubtful  whether  what  I  see  be  true, 

Until  confirm'd,  sign'd,  ratified  by  you. 

Portia.  You  see  me,  Lord  Bassanio,  where  I  stand, 
Such  as  I  am:  though  for  myself  alone  ,5o 

I  would  not  be  ambitious  in  my  wish, 
To  wish  myself  much  better,  yet  for  you 
I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself, 
A  thousand  times  more  fair,  ten  thousand  times  more  rich, 
That  only  to  stand  high  in  your  account, 
I  might  in  virtues,  beauties,  livings,  friends, 
Exceed  account :  but  the  full  sum  of  me 
Is  sum  of  nothing;  which,  to  term  in  gross, 
Is  an  unlesson'd  girl,  unschool'd,  unpractis'd  : 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old  UK, 

But  she  may  learn  ;  happier  than  this, 


ACT  HI.    SCENE  II.  87 

She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn ; 

Happiest  of  all  in  that  her  gentle  spirit 

Commits  itself  to  yours  to  be  directed, 

As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  her  king. 

Myself  and  what  is  mine  to  you  and  yours 

Is  now  converted  :  but  now  I  was  the  lord 

Of  this  fair  mansion,  master  of  my  servants, 

Queen  o'er  myself;  and  even  now,  but  now, 

This  house,  these  servants,  and  this  same  myself  170 

Are  yours,  my  lord.     I  give  them  with  this  ring; 

Which  when  you  part  from,  lose,  or  give  away, 

Let  it  presage  the  ruin  of  your  love, 

And  be  my  vantage  to  exclaim  on  you. 

Bassanio.  Madam,  you  have  bereft  me  of  all  words, 
Only  my  blood  speaks  to  you  in  my  veins ; 
And  there  is  such  confusion  in  my  powers 
As,  after  some  oration  fairly  spoke 
By  a  beloved  prince,  there  doth  appear 
Among  the  buzzing  pleased  multitude,  ,80 

Where  every  something,  being  blent  together, 
Turns  to  a  wild  of  nothing,  save  of  joy, 
Express'd  and  not  express'd.     But  when  this  ring 
Parts  from  this  finger,  then  parts  life  from  hence ; 
O,  then  be  bold  to  say,  Bassanio's  dead ! 

Nerissa.  My  lord  and  lady,  it  is  now  our  time, 
That  have  stood  by  and  seen  our  wishes  prosper, 
To  cry,  good  joy.     Good  joy,  my  lord  and  lady  ! 

Gratiano.  My  lord  Bassanio  and  my  gentle  lady, 
I  wish  you  all  the  joy  that  you  can  wish,  igo 

For  I  am  sure  you  can  wish  none  from  me ; 
And  when  your  honours  mean  to  solemnize 
The  bargain  of  your  faith,  I  do  beseech  you, 
Even  at  that  time  I  may  be  married  too. 

Bassanio.  With  all  my  heart,  so  thou  canst  get  a  wife. 

Gratiano.  I  thank  your  lordship,  you  have  got  me  one. 


88  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

My  eyes,  my  lord,  can  look  as  swift  as  yours : 

You  saw  the  mistress,  I  beheld  the  maid  ; 

You  lov'd,  I  lov'd  ;  for  intermission 

No  more  pertains  to  me,  my  lord,  than  you.  200 

Your  fortune  stood  upon  the  caskets  there, 

And  so  did  mine  too,  as  the  matter  falls  ; 

For  wooing  here  until  I  sweat  again, 

And  swearing  till  my  very  roof  was  dry 

With  oaths  of  love,  at  last,  if  promise  last, 

I  got  a  promise  of  this  fair  one  here 

To  have  her  love,  provided  that  your  fortune 

Achiev'd  her  mistress. 

Portia.  Is  this  true,  Nerissa? 

Nerissa.  Madam,  it  is,  so  you  stand  pleas'd  withal. 

Bassanio.  And  do  you,  Gratiano,  mean  good  faith  ?         2IO 

Gratiano.  Yes,  faith,  my  lord.  ^u. 

Bassanio.  Our  feast  shall  be  much  honour'd  in  your  marriage.     ^  \  |A. 

Gratiano.  But  who  comes  here  ?     Lorenzo  and  his  infidel  ? 
What!  and  my  old  Venetian  friend,  Salerio? 

Enter  LORENZO,  JESSICA,  and  SALERIO,  a  messenger 
from  Venice. 

Bassanio.  Lorenzo  and  Salerio,  welcome  hither ; 
;  If  that  the  youth  of  my  n£w  interest  here 
Have  power  to  bid  you  welcome. — By  your  leave, 
I  bid  my  very  friends  and  countrymen,        ^>  •  '•- 
Sweet  Portia,  welcome. 

Portia.  So  do  I,  my  lord  ; 

They  are  entirely  welcome.  220 

Lorenzo.  I  thank  your  honour. — For  my  part,  my  lord, 
My  purpose  was  not  to  have  seen  you  here; 
But  meeting  with  Salerio  by  the  way, 
He  did  entreat  me,  past  all  saying  nay, 
To  come  with  him  along. 

Salerio.  I  did,  my  lord  ; 


ACT  III.    SCENE  I L  89 

And  I  have  reason  for  it.     Signior  Antonio 

Commends  him  to  you.  [Gives  Hassam'0  a  letter. 

Bassanio.  Ere  I  ope  his  letter, 

I  pray  you,  tell  me  how  my  good  friend  doth. 

Salerio.  Not  sick,  my  lord,  unless  it  be  in  mind  ; 
'  Nor  well,  unless  in  mind  :  his  letter  there  230 

Will  show  you  his  estate. 

Gratiano.  Nerissa,  cheer  yon  stranger;  bid  her  welcome. —  u 
Your  hand,  Salerio ;  what  's  the  news  from  Venice  ? 
How  doth  that  royal  merchant,  good  Antonio? 
I  know  he  will  be  glad  of  our  success  ; 
We  are  the  Jasons,  we  have  won  the  fleece. 

Salerio.   I  would  you  had  won  the  fleece  that  he  hath  lost ! 

Portia.  There  are   some  shrewd  contents,  in   yon   same 

paper, 

That  steals  the  colour  from  Bassanio's  cheek : 
Some  dear  friend  dead;  else  nothing  in  the  world  240 

Could  turn  so  much  the  constitution  »  v  v  v  r 

Of  any  constanj:  man.     What,  worse  and  worse  ? — 
With  leave,  Bassanio  ;  I  am  half  yourself, 
And  I  must  freely  have  the  half  of  any  thing 
That  this  same  paper  brings  you. 

Bassanio.  O  sweet  Portia, 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  unpleasant'st  words 
That  ever  blotted  paper!     Gentle  lady, 
When  I  did  first  impart  my  love  to  you, 
I  freely  told  you,  all  the  wealth  I  had 
Ran  in  my  veins — I  was  a  gentleman  : 
And  then  I  told  you  true  ;  and  yet,  dear  lady, 
Rating  myself  at  nothing,  you  shall  see 
How  much  I  was  a  braggart.     When  I  told  you 
My  state  was  nothing,  I  should  then  have  told  you 
That  I  was  worse  than  nothing ;  for  indeed 
I  have  engag'd  myself  to  a  dear  friend, 
Engag'd  my  friend  to  his  mere  enemy, 


250 


9o 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


To  feed  my  means.     Here  is  a  letter,  lady ; 

The  paper  as  the  body  of  my  friend,      ci4Wz^ 

And  every  word  in  it  a  gaping  wound,  2<x> 

Issuing  life-blood. — But  is  it  true,  Salerio? 

Have  all  his  ventures  fail'd  ?     What,  not  one  hit? 

From  Tripolis,  from  Mexico,  and  England, 

From  Lisbon,  Barbary,  and  India, 

And  not  one  vessel  scape  the  dreadful  touch 

Of  merchant-marring  rocks  ? 

Salerio.  Not  one,  my  lord. 

Besides,  it  should  appear,  that  if  he  had 
The  present  money  to  discharge  the  Jew, 
He  would  not  take  it.     Never  did  I  know 
A  creature  that  did  bear  the  shape  of  man,  270 

So  keen  and  greedy  to  confound  a  man. 
He  plies  the  duke  at  morning  and  at  night, 
And  doth  impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state, 
If  they  deny  him  justice.     Twenty  merchants, 
The  duke  himself,  and  the  magnificoes 
Of  greatest  port,  have  all  persuaded  with  him  ; 
But  none  can  drive  him  from  the  envious  plea 
Of  forfeiture,  of  justice,  and  his  bond. 

Jessica.  When  I  was  with  him  I  have  heard  him  swear 
To  Tubal  and  to  Chus,  his  countrymen,  280 

That  he  would  rather  have  Antonio's  flesh 
Than  twenty  times  the  value  of  the  sum 
That  he  did  owe  him ;  and  I  know,  my  lord, 
If  law,  authority,  and  power  deny  not, 
It  will  go  hard  with  poor  Antonio. 

Portia.  Is  it  your  dear  friend  that  is  thus  in  trov.ble? 

TJassanio.  The  dearest  friend  to  me,  the  kindest  man, 
The  best-condition'd  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies  ;  and  one  in  whom 

The  ancient  Roman  honour  more  appears  290 

Than  any  that  draws  breath  in  Italy. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  III.  gi 

Portia.  What  sum  owes  he  the  Jew?  ,-  '^/ 

Bassanio.   For  me,  three  thousand  ducats.  '• 

Portia.  What,  no  more  ? 

Pay  him  six  thousand,  and  deface  the  bond  ;     c  cv  w  c.  e. ) 
Double  six  thousand,  and  then  treble  that, 
Before  a  friend  of  this  description 
Shall  lose  a  hair  through  Bassanio's  fault. 
First  go  with  me  to  church  and  call  me  wife, 
And  then  away  to  Venice  to  your  friend  ; 
For  never  shall  you  lie  by  Portia's  side  300 

With  an  unquiet  soul.     You  shall  have  gold 
To  pay  the  petty  debt  twenty  times  over; 
When  it  is  paid,  bring  your  true  friend  along. 
My  maid  Nerissa  and  myself,  mean  time, 
Will  live  as  maids  and  widows.     Come,  away ! 
For  you  shall  hence  upon  your  wedding-day. 
Bid  your  friends  welcome,  show  a  merry  cheer ; 
Since  you  are  dear  bought,  I  will  love  you  dear. — 
But  let  me  hear  the  letter  of  your  friend.  309 

Bassanio.  [Reads]  ''Sweet  Bassanio,  my  ships  have  all  mis- 
carried, my  creditors  grow  cruel,  my  estate  is  very  low,  my  bond 
to  the  Jew  is  forfeit ;  and  since,  in  paying  it,  it  is  impossible  I 
should  live,  all  debts  are  cleared  between  y_ou_and_I,  if  I  might  S  •  1 
see  you  at  my  death.  Notwithstanding,  use  your  pleasure ;  if 
your  love  do  not  persuade  you  to  come,  let  not  my  letter.'1 

Portia.  O  love,  dispatch  all  business,  and  be  gone  ! 

Bassanio.  Since  I  have  your  good  leave  to  go  away, 
I  w;l:  make  haste  ;  but,  till  I  come  again, 

No  bed  shall  e'er  be  guilty  of  my  stay,  3>g 

Nor  rest  be  interposer  'twixt  us  twain.  [Exeunt 

SCENE  III.      Venice.     A  Street. 

Enter  SHYLOCK,  SALARINO,  ANTONIO,  and  Gaoler. 

Shylock.  Gaoler,  look  to  him  ;  tell  not  me  of  mere)1. — 


92  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

This  is  the  fool  that  lends  out  money  gratis. — 
S.V,    Gaoler,  look  to  him. 

Antonio.  Hear  me  yet,  good  Shylock. 

Shylock.  I  '11  have  my  bond  ;  speak  not  against  my  bond 
Sov, ,,  I  have  sworn  an  oath  that  I  will  have  my  bond. 
,    Thou  call'dst  me  dog  before  thou  hadst  a  cause ; 
But,  since  I  am  a  dog,  beware  my  fangs. 
The  duke  shall  grant  me  justice. — I  do  wonder, 
Thou  naughty  gaoler,  that  thou  art  so  fond       -u/  o  r  IT  K.  1*  €  SS 
r    To  come  abroad  with  him  at  his  request.  10 

Antonio.  I  pray  thee,  hear  me  speak. 

Shylock.  I  '11  have  my  bond  ;  I  will  not  hear  thee  speak  : 
I  '11  have  my  bond  ;  and  therefore  speak  no  more. 
I  '11  not  be  made  a  soft  and  dull-eyed  fool, 
To  shake  the  head,  relent,  and  sigh,  and  yield 
To  Christian  intercessors.     Follow  not; 
I  '11  have  no  speaking:  I  will  have  my  bond.  \Exit. 

Salarino.  It  is  the  most  impenetrable  cur 
That  ever  kept  with  men. 

Antonio.  Let  him  alone  ; 

I  '11  follow  him  no  more  with  bootless  prayers.  ?Q 

He  seeks  my  life  ;  his  reason  welT  I  know. 
I  oft  deliver'd  from  his  forfeitures 
Many  that  have  at  times  made  moan  to  me; 
Therefore  he  hates  me. 

Salarino.  I  am  sure  the  duke 

Will  never  grant  this  forfeiture  to  hold. 

Antonio.  The  duke  cannot  deny  the  course  of  laTv; 
For  the  commodity  that  strangers  have 
With  us  in  Venice,  if  it  be  denied, 
Will  much  impeach  the  justice  of  the  state, 
Since  that  the  trade  and  profit  of  the  city  3o 

Consisteth  of  all  nations.  Therefore  go  ; 
These  griefs  and  losses  have  so  bated  me 
That  I  shall  hardly  spare  a  pound  of  flesh 


ACT  III.     SCENE  iy.  93 

To-morrow  to  my  bloody  creditor. — 

Well,  gaoler,  on. — Pray  God,  Bassanio  come 

To  see  me  pay  his  debt,  and  then  I  care  not !  {Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.     Belmont.     A  Room  in  Portia's  House. 
Enter  PORTIA,  NERISSA,  LORENZO,  JESSICA,  and  BALTHASAR. 

Lorenzo.  Madam,  although  I  speak  it  in  your  presence, 
You  have  a  noble  and  a  true  conceit 
Of  godlike  amity,  which  appears  most  strongly 
In  bearing  thus  the  absence  of  your  lord. 
But  if  you  knew  to  whom  you  show  this  honour, 
How^true  a  gentleman  you  send  relief, 
How  clear  a  lover  of  my  lord  your  husband, 
I  know  you  would  be  prouder  of  the  work 
Than  customary  bounty  can  enforce  you. 

Portia.  I  never  did  repent  for  doing  good,  ?o 

Nor  shall  not  now;  for  in  companions      /S.V.     ; 
That  do  converse  and  waste  the  time  together, 
Whose  souls  do  bear  an  equal  yoke  of  love, 
There  must  be  needs  a  like  proportion 
Of  lineaments,  of  manners,  and  of  spirit ; 
Which  makes  me  think  that  this  Antonio, 
Being  the  bosom  lover  of  my  lord, 
Must  needs  be  like  my  lord.     If  it  be  so, 
How  little  is  the  cost  I  have  bestow'd  , 

In  purchasing  the  semblance  of  my  soul  '"20 

From  out  the  state  of  hellish  cruelty  ! 
This  comes  too  near  the  praising  of  myself; 
Therefore  no  more  of  it  :  hear  other  things. 
Lorenzo,  I  commit  into  your  hands 
The  husbandry  and  manage  of  my  house 
Until  my  lord's  return  ;  for  mine  own  part, 
I  have  toward  heaven  breath'd  a  secret  vow 
To  live  in  prayer  and  contemplation, 


94 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Only  attended  by  Nerissa  here, 

Until  her  husband  and  my  lord's  return.  30 

There  is  a  monastery  two  miles  off, 

And  there  will  we  abide.     I  do  desire  you 

Not  to  deny  this  imposition, 

The  which  my  love  and  some  necessity 

Now  lays  upon  you. 

Lorenzo.  Madam,  with  all  my  heart; 

I  shall  obey  you  in  all  fjajr  commands. 

Portia.  My  people  do  already  know  my  mind, 
And  will  acknowledge  you  and  Jessica 
In  place  of  Lord  Bassanio  and  myself. 
So  fare  you  well,  till  we  shall  meet  again.  40 

Lorenzo.  Fair  thoughts  and  happy  hours  attend  on  you! 

yessica.   I  wish  your  ladyship  all  heart's  content. 

Portia.  I  thank  you  for  your  wish,  and  am  well  pleas'd 
To  wish  it  back  on  you  ;  fare  you  well,  Jessica. — 

\_Exeunt  Jessica  and  Lorenzo. 
Now,  Balthasar, 

As  I  have  ever  found  thee  honest-true, 
So  let  me  find  thee  still.     Take  this  same  letter, 
And  use  thou  all  the  endeavour  of  a  man 
In  speed  to  Padua:  see  thou  render  this 
Into  my  cousin's  hand.  Doctor  Bellario  ;  50 

And,  look,  what  notes  and  garments  he  doth  give  thee, 
Bring  them,  I  pray  thee,  with  imagin'd  speed 
Unto  the  tranect,  to  the  common  ferry 
Which  trades  to  Venice.     Waste  no  time  in  words, 
But  get  thee  gone  ;  I  shall  be  there  before  thee. 

Balthasar.   Madam,  I  go  with  all  convenient  speed.  \Exit. 

Portia.  Come  on,  Nerissa ;  I  have  work  in  hand 
That  you  yet  know  not  of.     We  '11  see  our  husbands 
Before  they  think  of  us. 

Nerissa.  Shall  they  see  us? 

Portia.  They  shall,  Nerissa,  but  in  such  a  habit,  60 


ACT  III.    SCENE  V. 


That  they  shall  think  we  are  accomplished 

With  that  we  lack.     I  '11  hold  thee  any  wager, 

When  we  are  both  accoutred  like  young  men, 

I  '11  prove  the  prettier  fellow  of  the  two, 

And  wear  my  dagger  with  the  braver  grace, 

And  speak  between  the  change  of  man  and  boy 

With  a  reed  voice,  and  turn  two  mincing  steps 

Into  a  manly  stride,  and  speak  of  frays 

Like  a  fine  bragging  youth  ;  and  tell  quaint  lies, 

How  honourable  ladies  sought  my  love, 

Which  I  denying,  they  fell  sick  and  died ; 

I  could  not  do  withal :  then  I  '11  repent, 

And  wish,  for  all  that,  that  I  had  not  kill'd  them. 

And  twenty  of  these  puny  lies  I  '11  tell, 

That  men  shall  swear  I  have  discontinued  school 

Above  a  twelvemonth.     I  have  within  my  mind 

A  thousand  raw  tricks  of  these  bragging  Jacks,  <•• 

Which  I  will  practise. 

But  come,  I  '11  tell  thee  all  my  whole  device 

W7hen  I  am  in  my  coachj  which  stays  for  us 

At  the  park  gate ;  and  therefore  haste  away, 

For  we  must  measure  twenty  miles  to-day. 


95 

-I  LL  V 


0^wxA- 
80 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  V.     The  Same.     A  Garden. 
Enter  LAUNCELOT  and  JESSICA. 

Launcelot.  Yes,  truly ;  for,  look  you,  the  sins  of  the  father 
are  to  be  laid  upon  the  children  :  therefore,  I  promise  you, 
I  fear  (you.  I  was  always  plain  with  you,  and  so  now  I 
speak  my  agitation  of  the  matter;  therefore  be  of  good 
cheer,  for  truly  I  think  you  are  damned.  There  is  but  one 
hope  in  it  that  can  do  you  any  good. 

Jessica.  And  what  hope  is  that,  I  pray  thee  ? 

Launcelot.  Marry,  you  may  partly  hope  that  you  are  not 
the  Jew's  daughter.  9 


96  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Jessica,  So  the  sins  of  my  mother  should  be  visited  upon  me. 

Launcelot.  Truly  then  I  fear  you  are  damned  both  by  fa- 
ther and  mother;  thus  when  I  shun  Scylla, your  father,  I  fall 
into  Charybdis,  your  mother:  well,  you  are  gone  both  ways. 

Jessica.  I  shall  be  saved  by  my  husband  ;  he  hath  made 
me  a  Christian. 

Launcelot.  Truly,  the  more  to  blame  he :  we  were  Chris- 
tians enow  before ;  e'en  as  many  as  could  well  live,  one  by 
another.  This  making  of  Christians  will  raise  the  price  of 
hogs ;  if  we  grow  all  to  be  pork-eaters,  we  shall  not  shortly 
have  a  rasher  on  the  coals  for  money.  20 

Enter  LORENZO. 

Jessica.  I  '11  tell  my  husband,  Launcelot,  what  you  say ; 
here  he  comes. 

Lorenzo.  I  shall  grow  jealous  of  you  shortly,  Launcelot. 

Jessica.  Nay,  you  need  not  fear  us,  Lorenzo ;  Launcelot 
and  I  are  out.  He  tells  me  flatly,  there  is  no  mercy  for  me 
in  heaven,  because  I  am  a  Jew's  daughter;  and  he  says,  you 
are  no  good  member  of  the  commonwealth,  for  in  converting 
Jews  to  Christians  you  raise  the  price  of  pork.  28 

Lorenzo.  I  think  the  best  grace  of  wit  will  shortly  turn  into 
silence,  and  discourse  grow  commendable  in  none  only  but 
parrots. — Go  in,  sirrah  ;  bid  them  prepare  for  dinner. 

Launcelot.  That  is  done,  sir ;  they  have  all  stomachs. 

Lorenzo.  Goodly  Lord,  what  a  wit-snapper  are  you  !  then 
bid  them  prepare  dinner. 

Launcelot.  That  is  done  too,  sir ;  only,  cover  is  the  word. 

Lorenzo.  Will  you  cover  then,  sir? 

Launcelot.  Not  so,  sir,  neither ;  I  know  my  duty. 

Lorenzo.  Yet  more  quarrelling  with  occasion  !  Wilt  thou 
show  the  whole  wealth  of  thy  wit  in  an  instant  ?  I  pray  thee, 
understand  a  plain  man  in  his  plain  meaning :  go  to  thy  fel- 
lows ;  bid  them  cover  the  table,  serve  in  the  meat,  and  we 
will  come  in  to  dinner. 


ACT  III.     SCENE 


97 


Launcdot.  For  the  table,  sir,  it  shall  be  served  in  ;  for  the 
meat,  sir,  it  shall  be  covered  ;  for  your  coming  in  to  dinner,  sir, 
why,  let  it  be  as  humours  and  conceits  shall  govern.  {Exit. 

Lorenzo.  O  dear  discretion,  how  his  words  are  suited ! 
The  fool  hath  planted  in  his  memory 
An  army  of  good  words  ;  and  I  do  know 
A_  many  fools,  that  stand  in  better  place, 
Garnish'd  like  him,  that  for  a  tricksy  word  50 

Defy  the  matter. — How  cheer'st  thou,  Jessica? 
And  now,  good  sweet,  say  thy  opinion, 
How  dost  thou  like  the  lord  Bassanio's  wife  ? 

Jessica.   Past  all  expressing.     It  is  very  meet 
The  lord  Bassanio  live  an  upright  life; 
For,  having  such  a  blessing  in  his  lady, 
He  finds  the  joys  of  heaven  here  on  earth  ; 
And  if  on  earth  he  do  not  mean  it,  then 
In  reason  he  should  never  come  to  heaven. 
Why,  if  two  gods  should  play  some  heavenly  match,  60 

And  on  the  wager  lay  two  earthly  women, 
And  Portia  one,  there  must  be  something  else 
Pawn'd  with  the  other,  for  the  poor  rude  world 
Hath  not  her  fellow. 

Lorenzo.  Even  such  a  husband 

Hast  thou  of  me  as  she  is  for  a  wife. 

Jessica.   Nay,  but  ask  my  opinion  too  of  that. 

Lorenzo.   I  will  anon  ;  first,  let  us  go  to  dinner. 

Jessica.   Nay,  let  me  praise  you  while  I  have  a  stomach. 

Lorenzo.  No,  pray  thee,  let  it  serve  for  table-talk  ; 
Then,  howsoe'er  thou  speak'st,  'mong  other  things  7o 

I  shall  digest  it. 

Jessica.  Well,  I  ;11  set  you  forth.  \Exeunt. 

G 


COLONNADE   OF   DUCAL    PALACE,  VENICE. 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  I.      Venice.     A  Court  of  Justice. 

Enter  the  DUKE,  the  Magnificoes,  ANTONIO,  BASSANIO, 

GRATIANO,  SALERIO,  and  others. 

Duke.  What,  is  Antonio  here  ? 

Antonio.  Ready,  so  please  your  grace. 

Duke.   I  am  sorry  for  thee  ;  thou  art  come  to  answer 
A  stony  adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch 
Uncapable  of  pity,  void  and  empty 
From  any  dram  of  mercy. 

Antonio.  I  have  heard 

Your  grace  hath  ta'en  great  pains  to  qualify 
His  rigorous  course  ;  but  since  he  stands  obdurate, 
And  that  no  lawful  means  can  carry  me 


ACT  I Y.     SCENE  1.  9 

Out  of  his  envy's  reach,  I  do  oppose 
My  patience  to  his  fury,  and  am  arm'd 
To  suffer,  with  a  quietness  of  spirit, 
The  very  tyranny  and  rage  of  his. 

Duke.  Go  one,  and  call  the  Jew  into  the  court. 

Salerio.  He  is  ready  at  the  door ;  he  comes,  my  lord. 

Enter  SHYLOCK. 

Duke.  Make  room,  and  let  him  stand  before  our  face.— 
Shylock,  the  world  thinks,  and  I  think  so  too, 
That  thou  but  lead'st  this  fashion  of  thy  malice 
To  the  last  hour  of  act;  and  then  't  is  thought 
Thou  'It  show  thy  mercy  and  remorse,  more  strange 
Than  is  thy  strange  apparent  cruelty; 
And  where  thou  now  exact'st  the  penalty, 
Which  is  a  pound  of  this  poor  merchant's  flesh, 
Thou  wilt  not  only  loose  the  forfeiture, 
But,  touch'd  with  human  gentleness  and  love, 
Forgive  a  moiety  of  the  principal ; 
Glancing  an  eye  of  pity  on  his  losses, 
That  have  of  late  so  huddled  on  his  back, 
Enow  to  press  a  royal  merchant  down, 
And  pluck  commiseration  of  his  state 
From  brassy  bosoms  and  rough  hearts  of  flint, 
From  stubborn  Turks  and  Tartars,  never  train'd 
To  offices  of  tender  courtesy. 
We  all  expect  a  gentle  answer,  Jew. 

Shylock.  I  have  possess'd  your  grace  of  what  I  purpose  \ 
And  by  our  holy  Sabbath  have  I  sworn 
To  have  the  due  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 
If  you  deny  it,  let  the  danger  light 
Upon  your  charter  and  your  city's  freedom. 
You  '11  ask  me,  why  I  rather  choose  to  have 
A  weight  of  carrion  flesh  than  to  receive 
Three  thousand  ducats.     I  '11  not  answer  that ; 


loo  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

But,  say,  it  is  my  humour :  is  it  answer'd  ? 

What  if  my  house  be  troubled  with  a  rat, 

And  I  be  pleas'd  to  give  ten  thousand  ducats 

To  have  it  ban'd  ?     What,  are  you  answer'd  yet  ? 

Some  men  there  are  love  not  a  gaping  pig ; 

Some,  that  are  mad  if  they  behold  a  cat : 

Masters  of  passion  sway  it  to  the  mood 

Of  what  it  likes  or  loathes.     Now,  for  your  answer  ;  "  50 

As  there  is  no  firm  reason  to  be  render'd 

Why  he  cannot  abide  a  gaping  pig, 

Why  he  a  harmless  necessary  cat, 

So  can  I  give  no  reason,  nor  I  will  not, 

More  than  a  lodg'd  hate  and  a  certain  loathing 

I  bear  Antonio,  that  I  follow  thus 

A  losing  suit  against  him.     Are  you  answer'd  ? 

Bassanio.  This  is  no  answer,  thou  unfeeling  man, 
To  excuse  the  current  of  thy  cruelty. 

Shylock.  I  am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my  answer. 

Bassanio.  Do  all  men  kill  the  things  they  do  not  love  ?   61 

Shylock.   Hates  any  man  the  thing  he  would  not  kill  ? 

Bassanio.  Every  offence  is  not  a  hate  at  first. 

Shylock.  What,  wouldst  thou  have   a  serpent  sting  thee 
twice  ? 

Antonio.   I  pray  you,  think  you  question  with  the  Jew. 
You  may  as  well  go  stand  upon  the  beach, 
And  bid  the  main  flood  bate  his  usual  height ; 
Vou  may  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf 
Why  he  hath  made  the  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb ; 
You  may  as  well  forbid  the  mountain  pines  7o 

To  wag  their  high  tops  and  to  make  no  noise, 
When  they  are  fretted  with  the  gusts  of  heaven  ; 
You  may  as  well  do  any  thing  most  hard, 
As  seek  to  soften  that — than  which  what  's  harder? — 
His  Jewish  heart.     Therefore,  I  do  beseech  you, 
Make  no  more  offers,  use  no  farther  means, 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I.  IOI 

But  with  all  brief  and  plain  conveniency 
Let  me  have  judgment,  and  the  Jew  his  will. 

Bassanio.  For  thy  three  thousand  ducats  here  is  six. 

Shylock.  If  every  ducat  in  six  thousand  ducats  80 

Were  in  six  parts,  and  every  part  a  ducat, 
I  would  not  draw  them  ;  I  would  have  my  bond. 

Duke.  How  shalt  thou  hope  for  mercy,  rendering  none  ? 

Shylock.  What  judgment  shall  I  dread,  doing  no  wrong? 
You  have  among  you  many  a  purchas'd  slave, 
Which,  like  your  asses  and  your  dogs  and  mules, 
You  use  in  abject  and  in  slavish  parts, 
Because  you  bought  them  :  shall  I  say  to  you, 
Let  them  be  free,  marry  them  to  your  heirs  ? 
Why  sweat  they  under  burthens  ?  let  their  beds  90 

Be  made  as  soft  as  yours,  and  let  their  palates 
Be  season'd  with  such  viands  ?     You  will  answer, 
, The  slaves  are  ours. — So  do  I  answer  you: 
The  pound  of  flesh,  which  I  demand  of  him, 
Is  dearly  bought ;  't  is  mine,  and  I  will  have  it. 
If  you  deny  me,  fie  upon  your  law  ! 
There  is  no  force  in  the  decrees  of  Venice. 
I  stand  for  judgment:  answer;  shall  I  have  it? 

Duke.  Upon  my  power  I  may  dismiss  this  court, 
Unless  Bellario,  a  learned  doctor,  100 

Whom  I  have  sent  for  to  determine  this, 
Come  here  to-day. 

Salerio.  My  lord,  here  stays  without 

A  messenger  with  letters  from  the  doctor, 
New  come  from  Padua. 

Duke.  Bring  us  the  letters;  call  the  messenger. 

Bassanio.  Good  cheer,  Antonio !    What,  man,  courage  yet! 
The  Jew  shall  have  my  flesh,  blood,  bones,  and  all, 
Ere  thou  shalt  lose  for  me  one  drop  of  blood. 

Antonio.  I  am  a  tainted  wether  of  the  flock, 
Meetest  for  death  ;  the  weakest  kind  of  fruit  no 


I02  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Drops  earliest  to  the  ground,  and  so  let  me. 
You  cannot  better  be  employ'd,  Bassanio, 
Than  to  live  still  and  write  mine  epitaph. 

Enter  NERISSA,  dressed  like  a  lawyer's  clerk. 

Duke.  Came  you  from  Padua,  from  Bellario? 

Nerissa.  From  both,  my  lord.     Bellario  greets  your  grace. 

[Presenting  a  letter. 

Bassanio.  Why  dost  thou  whet  thy  knife  so  earnestly  ? 

Shylock.  To  cut  the  forfeiture  from  that  bankrupt  there. 

Gratiano.  Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul,  harsh  Jew, 
Thou  mak'st  thy  knife  keen  ;  but  no  metal  can, 
No,  not  the  hangman's  axe,  bear  half  the  keenness  120 

Of  thy  sharp  envy.     Can  no  prayers  pierce  thee? 

Shylock.  No,  none  that  thou  hast  wit  enough  to  make. 

Gratiano.  O,  be  thou  damn'd,  inexorable  dog  ! 
And  for  thy  life  let  justice  be  accus'd  ! 
Thou  almost  mak'st  me  waver  in  my  faith, 
To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 
That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 
Into  the  trunks  of  men.     Thy  currish  spirit 
Govern'd  a  wolf,  who,  hang'd  for  human  slaughter. 
Even  from  the  gallows  did  his  fell  soul  fleet,  130 

And,  whilst  thou  lay'st  in  thy  unhallow'd  dam, 
Infus'd  itself  in  thee  ;  for  thy  desires 
Are  wolvish,  bloody,  starv'd,  and  ravenous. 

Shylock.  Till  thou  canst  rail  the  seal  from  off  my  bond, 
Thou  but  offend'st  thy  lungs  to  speak  so  loud. 
Repair  thy  wit,  good  youth,  or  it  will  fall 
To  cureless  ruin. — I  stand  here  for  law. 

Duke.  This  letter  from  Bellario  doth  commend 
A  young  and  learned  doctor  to  our  court. — 
Where  is  he  ? 

Nerissa.          He  attendeth  here  hard  by,  140 

To  know  your  answer,  whether  you  '11  admit  him. 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  7. 


103 


Duke.  With  all  my  heart. — Some  three  or  four  of  you 
Go  give  him  courteous  conduct  to  this  place. — 
Mean  time,  the  court  shall  hear  Bellario's  letter.  i44 

Clerk.  [Reads]  '  Your  grace  shall  understand  that  at  the  re- 
ceipt of  your  letter  I  am  very  sick:  but  in  the  instant  that  your 
messenger  came,  in  loving  visitation  was  with  me  a  young  doctor 
of  Rome  ;  his  name  is  Balthasar.  I  acquainted  him  with  the 
cause  in  controversy  between  the  Jew  and  Antonio  the  merchant; 
we  turned  o'er  many  books  together :  he  is  furnished  with  my 
opinion,  which,  bettered  with  his  own  learning,  the  greatness 
whereof  I  cannot  enough  commend,  comes  with  .him,  at  my  im- 
portunity, to  fill  up  your  grace's  request  in  my  stead.  I  beseech 
you,  let  his  lack  of  years  be  no  impediment  to  let  him  lack  a  rev- 
erend estimation ;  for  I  never  knew  so  young  a  body  with  so  old 
a  head.  I  leave  him  to  your  gracious  acceptance,  whose  trial 
shall  better  publish  his  commendation.'1 

Duke.  You  hear  the  learn'd  Bellario,  what  he  writes; 
And  here,  I  take  it,  is  the  doctor  come. — 

Enter  PORTIA,  dressed  like  a  doctor  of  laws. 
Give  me  your  hand.     Came  you  from  old  Bellario?  160 

Portia.  I  did,  my  lord. 

Duke.  You  are  welcome  ;  take  your  place. 

Are  you  acquainted  with  the  difference 
That  holds  this  present  question  in  the  court  ? 

Portia.   I  am  informed  throughly  of  the  cause. 
Which  is  the  merchant  here,  and  which  the  Jew  ? 

Duke.  Antonio  and  old  Shylock,  both  stand  forth. 

Portia.   Is  your  name  Shylock? 

Shylock.  Shylock  is  my  name. 

Portia.  Of  a  strange  nature  is  the  suit  you  follow, 
Yet  in  such  rule  that  the  Venetian  law 

Cannot  impugn  you  as  you  do  proceed* —  170 

You  stand  within  his  danger,  do  you  not? 

Antonio.  Ay,  so  he  says. 


104  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Portia.  Do  you  confess  the  bond? 

Antonio.   I  do. 

Portia.  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

Shylock.  On  what  compulsion  must  I  ?  tell  me  that. 

Portia.  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strain'd  : 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath  :   it  is  twice  blest ; 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives  and  him  that  takes. 
'T  is  mightiest  in  the  mightiest:   it  becomes 

o  _.  o  - 

The  throned  monarch  better  than  his  crown  ; 

His  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 

The  attribute  to  awe  and  majesty, 

Wherein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings; 

But  mercy  is  above  this  sceptred  sway; 

It  is  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings, 

It  is  an  attribute  to  God  himself; 

And  earthly  power  cloth  then  show  likest  God's 

When  mercy  seasons  justice.     Therefore,  Jew, 

Though  justice  be  thy  plea,  consider  this, — 

That,  in  the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us 

Should  see  salvation ;  we  do  pray  for  mercy, 

And  that  same  prayer  doth  teach  us  all  to  render 

The  deeds  of  mercy.     I  have  spoke  thus  much 

To  mitigate  the  justice  of  thy  plea, 

Which  if  thou  follow,  this  strict  court  of  Venice 

Must  needs  give  sentence  'gainst  the  merchant  there. 

Shylock.  My  deeds  upon  my  head !     I  crave  the  law, 
The  penalty  and  forfeit  of  my  bond. 

Portia.  Is  he  not  able  to  discharge  the  money  ? 

Bassanio.  Yes,  here  I  tender  it  for  him  in  the  court; 
Yea,  twice  the  sum  ;  if  that  will  not  suffice, 
I  will  be  bound  to  pay  it  ten  times  o'er, 
On  forfeit  of  my  hands,  my  head,  my  heart ; 
If  this  will  not  suffice,  it  must  appear 
That  malice  bears  down  truth.     And  I  beseech  you, 


ACT  /r.     SCENE  I.  I 

Wrest  once  the  law  to  your  authority; 
To  do  a  great  right,  do  a  little  wrong, 
And  curb  this  cruel  devil  of  his  will. 

Portia.  It  must  not  be.     There  is  no  power  in  Venice 
Can  alter  a  decree  established; 
'T  will  be  recorded  for  a  precedent, 
And  many  an  error  by  the  same  example 
Will  rush  into  the  state.     It  cannot  be. 

Shylock.  A  Daniel  come  to  judgment!  yea,  a  Daniel! 
O  wise  young  judge,  how  do  I  honour  thee  ! 

Portia.   I  pray  you,  let  me  look  upon  the  bond. 

Shylock.   Here  't  is,  most  reverend  doctor,  here  it  is. 

Portia.   Shylock,  there  's  thrice  thy  money  offer'd  thee. 

Shylock.  An  oath,  an  oath,  I  have  an  oath  in  heaven ; 
Shall  I  lay  perjury  upon  my  soul  ? 
No,  not  for  Venice. 

Portia.  Why,  this  bond  is  forfeit ; 

And  lawfully  by  this  the  Jew  may  claim 
A  pound  of  flesh,  to  be  by  him  cut  off 
Nearest  the  merchant's  heart. — Be  merciful : 
Take  thrice  thy  money;  bid  me  tear  the  bond. 

Shylock.  When  it  is  paid  according  to  the  tenour. — 
It  doth  appear  you  are  a  worthy  judge; 
You  know  the  law ;  your  exposition 
Hath  been  most  sound  :  I  charge  you  by  the  law, 
Whereof  you  are  a  well-deserving  pillar, 
Proceed  to  judgment.     By  my  soul  I  swear, 
There  is  no  power  in  the  tongue  of  man 
To  alter  me.     I  stay  here  on  my  bond. 

Antonio.   Most  heartily  I  do  beseech  the  court 
To  give  the  judgment. 

Portia.  Why  then,  thus  it  is  : 

You  must  prepare  your  bosom  for  his  knife. ' 

Shylock.  O  noble  judge  !     O  excellent  young  man  ! 

Portia.  For  the  intent  and  purpose  of  the  law 


I06  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Hath  full  relation  to  the  penalty, 

Which  here  appeareth  due  upon  the  bond.  24o 

Shylock.  'T  is  very  true.     O  wise  and  upright  judge! 
How  much  more  elder  art  thou  than  thy  looks ! 

Portia.  Therefore  lay  bare  your  bosom. 

Shylock.  Ay,  his  breast ; 

So  says  the  bond — doth  it  not,  noble  judge? — 
Nearest  his  heart ;  those  are  the  very  words. 

Portia.  It  is  so.     Are  there  balance  here  to  weigh 
The  flesh  ? 

Shylock.     I  have  them  ready. 

Portia.  Have  by  some  surgeon,  Shylock,  on  your  charge, 
To  stop  his  wounds,  lest  he  do  bleed  to  death. 

Shylock.  Js  it  so  nominated  in  the  bond?  250 

Portia.  It  is  not  so  express'd  ;  but  what  of  that? 
'T  were  good  you  do  so  much  for  charity. 

Shylock.  I  cannot  find  it;  't  is  not  in  the  bond. 

Portia.  You,  merchant,  have  you  any  thing  to  say? 

Antonio.  But  little  ;  I  am  arm'd  and  well  prepar'd. — 
Give  me  your  hand,  Bassanio;  fare  you  well ! 
Grieve  not  that  I  am  fallen  to  this  for  you  ; 
For  herein  Fortune  shows  herself  more  kind 
Than  is  her  custom  :  it  is  still  her  use 

To  let  the  wretched  man  outlive  his  wealth,  260 

To  view  with  hollow  eye  and  wrinkled  brow 
An  age  of  poverty;  from  which  lingering  penance 
Of  such  misery  cloth  she  cut  me  off. 
Commend  me  to  your  honourable  wife : 
Tell  her  the  process  of  Antonio's  end  ; 
Say  how  I  lov'd  you,  speak  me  fair  in  death  ; 
And  when  the  tale  is  told  bid  her  be  judge 
Whether  Bassanio  had  not  once  a  love. 
Repent  not  you  that  you  shall  lose  your  friend, 
And  he  repents  not  that  he  pays  your  debt ;  27o 

For  if  the  Jew  do  cut  but  deep  enough, 
I  '11  pay  it  instantly  with  all  my  heart. 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  I. 


107 


Bassanio.  Antonio,  I  am  married  to  a  wife 
Which  is  as  dear  to  me  as  life  itself; 
But  life  itself,  my  wife,  and  all  the  world, 
Are  not  with  me  esteem'd  above  thy  life  : 
I  would  lose  all,  ay,  sacrifice  them  all 
Here  to  this  devil,  to  deliver  you. 

Portia.  Your  wife  would  give  you  little  thanks  for  that, 
If  she  were  by  to  hear  you  make  the  offer.  2s0 

Gratiano.  I  have  a  wife,  whom,  I  protest,  I  love; 
I  would  she  were  in  heaven,  so  she  could 
Entreat  some  power  to  change  this  currish  Jew. 

Nerissa.  'T  is  well  you  offer  it  behind  her  back  ; 
The  wish  would  make  else  an  unquiet  house. 

Shylock.  \Aside\  These  be  the  Christian  husbands.     I  have 

a  daughter  ; 

Would  any  of  the  stork  of  Barrabas 
Had  been  her  husband  rather  than  a  Christian  ! — 
\To  Portia]  We  trifle  time;  I  pray  thee,  pursue  sentence. 

Portia.  A  pound  of  that  same  merchant's  flesh  is  thine  ;  290 
The  court  awards  it,  and  the  law  doth  give  it. 

Shylock.  Most  rightful  judge  ! 

Portia.  And  you  must  cut  this  flesh  from  off  his  breast ; 
The  law  allows  it,  and  the  court  awards  it. 

Shylock.  Most  learned  judge  ! — A  sentence!     Come,  pre- 
pare ! 

Portia.  Tarry  a  little  ;  there  is  something  else. 
This  bond  doth  give  thee  here  no  jot  of  blood  ; 
The  words  expressly  are,  a  pound  of  flesh  : 
Take  then  thy  bond,  take  thou  thy  pound  of  flesh  ; 
But,  in  the  cutting  it,  if  thou  dost  shed  3oo 

One  drop  of  Christian  blood,  thy  lands  and  goods 
Are,  by  the  laws  of  Venice,  confiscate 
Unto  the  state  of  Venice. 

Gratiano.  O    upright  judge!  —  Mark,  Jew!  —  O   learned 
judge! 


io8  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE, 

Shylock.  Is  that  the  law? 

Portia.  Thyself  shalt  see  the  act ; 

For,  as  thou  urgest  justice,  be  assur'd 
Thou  shalt  have  justice,  more  than  thou  desirest. 

Gratiano.    O    learned  judge!  —  Mark,  Jew  !  —  a  learned 
judge ! 

Shylock.  I  take  this  offer,  then ;  pay  the  bond  thrice, 
And  let  the  Christian  go. 

Bassanio.  Here  is  the  money.  3,0 

Portia.   Soft! 

The  Jew  shall  have  all  justice  ; — soft !  no  haste  : — 
He  shall  have  nothing  but  the  penalty. 

Gratiano.  O  Jew  !  an  upright  judge,  a  learned  judge  ! 

Portia.  Therefore  prepare  thee  to  cut  off  the  flesh. 
Shed  thou  no  blood  ;  nor  cut  thou  less  nor  more 
But  just  a  pound  of  flesh:  if  thou  tak'st  more 
Or  less  than  a  just  pound,  be  it  but  so  much 
As  makes  it  light  or  heavy  in  the  substance, 
Or  the  division  of  the  twentieth  part  320 

Of  one  poor  scruple — nay,  if  the  scale  do  turn 
But  in  the  estimation  of  a  hair, 
Thou  diest,  and  all  thy  goods  are  confiscate. 

Gratiano.  A  second  Daniel,  a  Daniel,  Jew! 
Now,  infidel,  I  have  thee  on  the  hip. 

Portia.  Why  doth  the  Jew  pause? — Take  thy  forfeiture. 

Shylock.  Give  me  my  principal,  and  let  me  go. 

Bassanio.  I  have  it  ready  for  thee ;  here  it  is. 

Portia.  He  hath  refus'd  it  in  the  open  court; 
He  shall  have  merely  justice,  and  his  bond.  330 

Gratiano.  A  Daniel,  still  say  I,  a  second  Daniel ! 
I  thank  thee,  Jew,  for  teaching  me  that  word. 

Shylock.   Shall  I  not  have  barely  my  principal  ? 

Portia.  Thou  shalt  have  nothing  but  the  forfeiture. 
To  be  so  taken  at  thy  peril,  Jew. 

Shylock.  Why,  then  the  devil  give  him  good  of  it ! 
I  '11  stay  no  longer  question. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 


109 


Portia.  Tarry,  Jew; 

The  law  hath  yet  another  hold  on  you. 
It  is  enacted  in  the  laws  of  Venice, 

If  it  be  prov'd  against  an  alien  340 

That  by  direct  or  indirect  attempts 
He  seek  the  life  of  any  citizen, 
The  party  'gainst  tihe  which  he  doth  contrive 
Shall  seize  one  half  his  goods ;  the  other  half 
Comes  to  the  privy  coffer  of  the  state  ; 
And  the  offender's  life  lies  in_  the  mercy       $„  \/> 
Of  the  duke  only,  'gainst  all  other  voice. 
In  which  predicament,  I  say,  thou  stand'st; 
For  it  appears,  by  manifest  proceeding, 

That  indirectly,  and  directly  too,  350 

Thou  hast  contriv'd  against  the  very  life 
Of  the  defendant,  and  thou  hast  incurr'd 
The  danger  formerly  by  me  rehears'd. 
Down  therefore,  and  beg  mercy  of  the  duke. 

Gratiano.  Beg  that  thou  mayst  have  leave  to  hang  thyself: 
And  yet,  thy  wealth  being  forfeit  to  the  state, 
Thou  hast  not  left  the  value  of  a  cord; 
Therefore  thou  must  be  hang'd  at  the  state's  charge. 

Duke.  That  thou  shalt  see  the  difference  of  our  spirits, 
I  pardon  thee  thy  life  before  thou  ask  it.  36o 

For  half  thy  wealth,  it  is  Antonio's  ; 
The  other  half  comes  to  the  general  state, 
Which  humbleness  may  drive  unto  a  fine. 

Portia.  Ay,  for  the  state,  not  for  Antonio. 

Shylock.  Nay,  take  my  life  and  all;  pardon  not  thais 
You  take  my  house  when  you  do  take  the  prop 
That  doth  sustain  my  house;  you  take  my  life 
When  you  do  take  the  means  whereby  I  live. 

Portia.  What  mercy  can  you  render  him,  Antonio? 

Gratiano.  A  halter  gratis ;  nothing  else,  for  God's  sake.     370 

Antonio.  So  please  my  lord  the  duke  and  all  the  court 


i  10  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

To  quit  the  fine  for  one  half  of  his  goods, 

I  am  content,  so  he  will  let  me  have 

The  other  half  in  use,  to  render  it, 

Upon  his  death,  unto  the  gentleman 

That  lately  stole  his  daughter: 

Two  things  provided  more, — that,  for  this  favour, 

He  presently  become  a  Christian  ; 

The  other,  that  he  do  record  a  gift, 

Here  in  the  court,  of  all  he  dies  possess'd,  3so 

Unto  his  son  Lorenzo  and  his  daughter. 

Duke.   He  shall  do  this,  or  else  I  do  recant 
The  pardon  that  I  late  pronounced  here. 

Portia.  Art  thou  contented, Jew?  what  dost  thou  say? 

Shy  lock.   I  am  content. 

Portia.  Clerk,  draw  a  deed  of  gift. 

Shylock.  I  pray  you,  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence ; 
I  am  not  well.     Send  the  deed  after  me, 
And  I  will  sign  it. 

Duke.  Get  thee  gone,  but  do  it. 

Gratiano.  In  christening  thou  shalt  have  two  godfathers ; 
Had  I  been  judge,  thou  shouldst  have  had  ten  more,  3y0 

To  bring  thee  to  the  gailows,  not  the  font.        \^Exit  Shylock. 

Duke.   Sir,  I  entreat  you  home  with  me  to  dinner. 

Portia.   I  humbly  do  desire  your  grace  of  pardon  ; 
I  must  away  this  night  toward  Padua, 
And  it  is  meet  I  presently  set  forth. 

Duke.  I  am  sorry  that  your  leisure  serves  you  not. — 
Antonio,  gratify  this  gentleman, 
For,  in  my  mind,  you  are  much  bound  to  him. 

\Exeunt  Duke  and  his  train. 

Bassanio.  Most  worthy  gentleman,  I  and  my  friend 
Have  by  your  wisdom  been  this  day  acquitted  400 

Of  grievous  penalties;  in  lieu  whereof 
Three  thousand  ducats,  due  unto  the  Jew, 
We  freely  cope  your  courteous  pains  withal 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  I.  tll 

Antonio.  And  stand  indebted,  over  and  above 
In  love  and  service  to  you  evermore. 

Portia.   He  is  well  paid  that  is  well  satisfied ; 
And  I,  delivering  you.  am  satisfied, 
And  therein  do  account  myself  well  paid: 
My  mind  was  never  yet  more  mercenary. 
I  pray  you,  know  me  when  we  meet  again  ;  4 - 

I  wish  you  well,  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 

Bassanio.   Dear  sir,  offeree  1  must  attempt  you  further) 
Take  some  remembrance  of  us,  as  a  tribute, 
Not  as  a  fee :  grant  me  two  things,  I  pray  you, 
Not  to  deny  me,  and  to  pardon  me. 

Portia.  You  press  me  far,  and  therefore  I  will  yield. — 
\To  Antonio\  Give  me  your  gloves,  I  '11  wear  them  for  your 

sake ; — • 
\To  Bassanio]  And,  for  your  love,  I  '11  take  this  ring  from 

you. — 

Do  not  draw  back  your  hand  ;  I  '11  take  no  more, 
And  you  in  love  shall  not  deny  me  this.  420 

Bassanio.  This  ring,  good  sir, — alas!  it  is  a  trifle; 
I  will  not  shame  myself  to  give  you  this. 

Portia.   I  will  have  nothing  else  but  only  this; 
And  now  methinks  I  have  a  mind  to  it. 

Bassanio.  There  's  more  depends  on  this  than  on  the  value. 
The  dearest  ring  in  Venice  will  I  give  you, 
And  find  it  out  by  proclamation  ; 
Only  for  this,  I  pray  you,  pardon  me. 

Portia.   I  see,  sir,  you  are  liberal  in  offers; 
You  taught  me  first  to  beg,  and  now  methinks  430 

You  teach  me  how  a  beggar  should  be  answer'd. 

Bassanio.   Good  sir,  this  ring  was  given  me  by  my  wife  ; 
And  when  she  put  it  on  she  made  me  vow 
That  I  should  neither  sell,  nor  give,  nor  lose  it. 

Portia.  That  'scuse  serves  many  men  to  save  their  gifts ; 
And  if  your  wife  be  not  a  mad  woman, 


1 1 2  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

And  know  how  well  I  have  deserv'd  the  ring, 

She  would  not  hold  out  enemy  for  ever, 

lor  giving  it  to  me.     Well,  peace  be  with  you! 

[Exeunt  Portia  and  Nerhsa. 

Antonio.  My  lord  Bassanio,  let  him  have  the  ring;  4Jo 

Let  his  deservings  and  my  love  withal 
Be  valued  'gainst  your  wife's  commandemenr. 

Bassanio.  Go,  Gratiano,  run  and  overtake  him; 
Give  him  the  ring,  and  bring  him,  if  thou  canst, 
Unto  Antonio's  house:  away!  make  haste. — \ExitGratiano. 
Come,  you  and  I  will  thither  presently; 
And  in  the  morning  early  will  we  both 
Fly  toward  Belmont :  come,  Antonio.  \_Exciini. 

SCENE  II.     The  Same.     A  Street. 
Enter  PORTIA  and  NERISSA. 

Portia.  Inquire  the  Jew's  house  out,  give  him  this  deed, 
And  let  him  sign  it;  we  '11  away  to-night, 
And  be  a  day  before  our  husbands  home. 
This  deed  will  be  well  welcome  to  Lorenzo. 

Enter  GRATIANO. 

Gratiano.    Fair  sir,  you  are  well  o'erta'en  ; 
My  lord  Bassanio,  upon  more  advice, 
Hath  sent  you  here  this  ring,  and  doth  entreat 
Your  company  at  dinner. 

Portia.  That  cannot  be. 

His  ring  I  do  accept  most  thankfully, 

And  so,  I  pray  you,  tell  him ;  furthermore,  ro 

I  pray  you,  show  my  youth  old  Shylock's  house. 

Gratiano.  That  will  I  do. 

Nerissa.  Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you.— 

[Asute  to  Portia']  I  '11  see  if  I  can  get  my  husband's  ring, 
Which  I  did  make  him  swear  to  keep  for  ever. 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  II.  U3 

Portia.  [Aside  to  Nerissd\    Thou   mayst,  I  warrant.     We 

shall  have  old  swearing 
That  they  did  give  the  rings  away  to  men; 
But  we  '11  outface  them,  and  outswear  them  too. 
Away!  make  haste;  thou  know'st  where  I  will  tarry. 

Nerissa.  Come,  good  sir,  will  you  show  me  to  this  house  ? 

[Exeunt. 


ii 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.     Belmont.     Avenue  to  Portia's  House. 
Enter  LORENZO  and  JESSICA. 

Lorenzo.  The  moon  shines  bright.     In  such  a  night  as  this, 
When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees 
And  they  did  make  no  noise — in  such  a  night, 
Troilus  methinks  mounted  the  Trojan  walls, 
And  sigh'd  his  soul  toward  the  Grecian  tents, 
Where  Cressid  lay  that  night. 

Jessica.  In  such  a  night, 

Did  Thisbe  fearfully  o'ertrip  the  dew, 
And  saw  the  lion's  shadow  ere  himself, 
And  ran  dismay'd  away. 

Lorenzo.  In  such  a  night, 

Stood  Dido  with  a  willow  in  her  hand 
Upon  the  wild  sea-banks,  and  waft  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage. 

Jessica.  In  such  a  night, 

Medea  gather'd  the  enchanted  herbs 
That  did  renew  old 


ACT  V.     SCENE  1.  115 

Lorenzo.  In  such  a  night, 

Did  Jessica  steal  from  the  wealthy  Jew, 
And  with  an  unthrift  love  did  run  from  Venice 
As  far  as  Belmont. 

Jessica.  In  such  a  night, 

Did  young  Lorenzo  swear  he  lov'd  her  well, 
Stealing  her  soul  with  many  vows  of  faith, 
And  ne'er  a  true  one. 

Lorenzo.  In  such  a  night,  ao 

Did  pretty  Jessica,  like  a  little  shrew, 
Slander  h^r  love,  and  he  forgave  it  her. 

Jessica.  I  would  out-night  you,  did  nobody  come ; 
But,  hark,  I  hear  the  footing  of  a  man. 

Enter  STEPKANO. 

Lorenzo.  Who  comes  so  fast  in  silence  of  the  night? 

Stephana.  A  friend. 

Lorenzo.  A  friend!  what  friend?  your  name,  I  pray  you, 
friend? 

Stephana.  Stephano  is- my  name,  and  I  bring  word 
My  mistress  will  before  the  break  of  day 
Be  here  at  Belmont;  she  doth  stray  about  30 

By  holy  crosses,  where  she  kneels  and  prays 
For  happy  wedlock  hours. 

Lorenzo.  Who  comes  with  her  ? 

Stephano.  None  but  a  holy  hermit  and  her  maid. 
I  pray  you,  is  my  master  yet  return'd? 

Lorenzo.  He  is  not,  nor  we  have  not  heard  from  him. — 
But  go  we  in,  I  pray  thee,  Jessica, 
And  ceremoniously  let  us  prepare 
Some  welcome  for  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Enter  LAUNCELOT. 

Launcelot.  Sola,  sola!  wo  ha,  ho!  sola,  sola! 
Lorenzo.  Who  calls? 


n6  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

Launcelot.  Sola !  did  you  see  Master  Lorenzo  and  Mistress 
Lorenzo?  sola,  sola! 

Lorenzo.  Leave  hollaing,  man  ;  here. 

Launcelot.  Sola!  where?  where? 

Lorenzo.  Here. 

Launcelot.  Tell  him  there  's  a  post  come  from  my  master, 
with  his  horn  full  of  good  news;  my  master  will  be  here  ere 
morning.  \Exit, 

Lorenzo.  Sweet  soul,  let 's  in,  and  there  expect  their  coming. 
And  yet  no  matter;  why  should  we  go  in? —  50 

My  friend  Stephano,  signify,  I  pray  you, 
Within  the  house,  your  mistress  is  at  hand ; 
And  bring  your  music  forth  into  the  air. —     \Exit  Stephano. 
How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears;  soft  stillness  and  the  night 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
Sit,  Jessica.     Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold: 
There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins ; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls, 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. — 

Enter  Musicians. 

Come,  ho!  and  wake  Diana  with  a  hymn; 

With  sweetest  touches  pierce  your  mistress'  ear, 

And  draw  her  home  with  music.  \Music, 

^ssica.  I  am  never  merry  when  I  hear  sweet  music. 

Lorenzo.  The  reason  is,  your 'spirits  are  attentive:  70 

For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 
Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhandled  colts, 
Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing  and  neighing  loud, 


ACT  F,    SCENE  I.  ll^ 

Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood  ; 

If  they  but  hear  perchance  a  trumpet  sound, 

Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears, 

You  shall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand, 

Their  savage  eyes  turn'd  to  a  modest  gaze 

By  the  sweet  power  of  music :  therefore  the  poet 

Did  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones,  and  floods ;         8o 

Since  nought  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage, 

But  music  for  the  time  doth  change  his  nature. 

The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 

Nor  is  not  mov'd  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 

Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils; 

The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night, 

And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus. 

Let  no  such  man  be  trusted. — Mark  the  music. 

Enter  PORTIA  and  NERISSA. 

Portia.  That  light  we  see  is  burning  in  my  hall. 
How  far  that  little  candle  throws  his  beams!  90 

So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world. 

Nerissa.  When  the  moon  shone,  we  did  not  see  the  candle. 

Portia.  So  doth  the  greater  glory  dim  the  less: 
A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king, 
Until  a  king  be  by;  and  then  his  state 
Empties  itself,  as  doth  an  inland  brook 
Into  the  main  of  waters. — Music!  hark! 

Nerissa.  It  is  your  music,  madam,  of  the  house. 

Portia.   Nothing  is  good,  I  see,  without  respect: 
Methinks  it  sounds  much  ^sweeter  than  by  day.  i00 

Nerissa.  Silence  bestows  that  virtue  on  it,  madam. 

Portia.  The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  lark 
When  neither  is  attended ;  and  I  think 
The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  by  day, 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren. 


n8  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE, 

How  many  things  by  season  season'd  are 

To  their  right  praise  and  true  perfection  ! — 

Peace,  ho!  the  moon  sleeps  with  Endymion, 

And  would  not  be  awak'd.  [Music  ceases. 

Lorenzo.  That  is  the  voice,  no 

Or  I  am  much  deceiv'd,  of  Portia. 

Portia.  He  knows  me  as  the  blind  man  knows  the  cuckoo, 
By  the  bad  voice. 

Lorenzo.  Dear  lady,  welcome  home. 

Portia.  We  have  been  praying  for  our  husbands'  welfare, 
Which  speed,  we  hope,  the  better  for  our  words. 
Are  they  return 'd? 

Lorenzo.  Madam,  they  are  not  yet; 

But  there  is  come  a  messenger  before, 
To  signify  their  coming. 

Portia.  Go  in,  Nerissa; 

Give  order  to  my  servants  that  they  take 
No  note  at  all  of  our  being  absent  hence; —  120 

Nor  you,  Lorenzo •; — Jessica,  nor  you.  [A  tucket  sounds. 

Lorenzo.  Your  husband  is  at  hand ;  I  hear  his  trumpet. 
We  are  no  tell-tales,  madam  ;  fear  you  not. 

Portia.  This  night  methinks  is  but  the  daylight  sick; 
It  looks  a  little  paler:  't  is  a  day 
Such  as  the  day  is  when  the  sun  is  hid. 

Enter  BASSANIO,  ANTONIO,  GRATIANO,  and  their 
followers. 

Bassanio.  We  should  hold  day  with  the  Antipodes. 
If  you  would  walk  in  absence  of  the  sun. 

Portia.  Let  me  give  light,  but  let  me  not  be  light; 
For  a  light  wife  doth  make  a  heavy  husband,  ,30 

And  never  be  Bassanio  so  for  me: 
But  God  sort  all !     You  are  welcome  home,  my  lord. 

Bassanio.  I   thank  you,  madam.     Give  welcome  to    my 
friend. 


ACT  V.     SCENE  I.  II9 

This  is  the  man,  this  is  Antonio, 
To  whom  I  a'm  so  infinitely  bound. 

Portia.  You  should  in  all  sense  be  much  bound  to  him, 
For,  as  I  hear,  he  was  much  bound  for  you. 

Antonio.  No  more  than  I  am  well  acquitted  of. 

Portia.   Sir,  you  are  very  welcome  to  our  house  ; 
It  must  appear  in  other  ways  than  words,  ,40 

Therefore  I  scant  this  breathing  courtesy. 

Gratiano.   \_To  Nerissd\  By  yonder  moon  I  swear  you  do 

me  wrong ; 
In  faith,  I  gave  it  to  the  judge's  clerk. 

Portia.  A  quarrel,  ho,  already  !  what  's  the  matter? 

Gratiano.   About  a  hoop  of  gold,  a  paltry  ring 
That  she  did  give  me,  whose  poesy  was 
For  all  the  world  like  cutler's  poetry 
Upon  a  knife, '  Love  me,  and  leave  me  not.' 

Nerissa.  What  talk  you  of  the  poesy  or  the  value? 
You  swore  to  me,  when  I  did  give  it  you,  150 

That  you  would  wear  it  till  the  hour  of  death, 
And  that  it  should  lie  with  you  in  your  grave  ; 
Though  not  for  me,  yet  for  your  vehement  oaths, 
You  should  have  been  respective  and  have  kept  it. 
Gave  it  a  judge's  clerk  !  but  well  I  know 
The  clerk  will  ne'er  wear  hair  on  's  face  that  had  it. 

Gratiano.  He  will,  an  if  he  live  to  be  a  man. 

Nerissa.  Ay,  if  a  woman  live  to  be  a  man. 

Gratiano.  Now,  by  this  hand,  I  gave  it  to  a  youth, 
A  kind  of  boy,  a  little  scrubbed  boy,  160 

No  higher  than  thyself,  the  judge's  clerk, 
A  prating  boy,  that  begg'd  it  as  a  fee  ; 
I  could  not  for  my  heart  deny  it  him. 

Portia.  You  were  to  blame,  I  must  be  plain  with  you, 
To  part  so  slightly  with  your  wife's  first  gift ; 
A  thing  stuck  on  with  oaths  upon  your  finger; 
And  so  riveted  with  faith  unto  your  flesh. 


I2o  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

I  gave  my  love  a  ring,  and  made  him  swear 

Never  to  part  with  it;  and  here  he  stands  : 

I  dare  be  sworn  for  him,  he  would  not  leave  it,  i70 

Nor  pluck  it  from  his  finger,  for  the  wealth 

That  the  world  masters/    Now,  in  faith,  Gratiano, 

You  give  your  wife  too  unkind  a  cause  of  grief ; 

An  't  were  to  me,  I  should  be  mad  at  it. 

Bassanio.  \Aside\  Why,  I  were  best  to  cut  my  left  hand  off, 
And  swear  I  lost  the  ring  defending  it. 

Gratiano.  My  lord  Bassanio  gave  his  ring  away 
Unto  the  judge  that  begg'cl  it,  and  indeed 
Deserv'd  it  too ;  and  then  the  boy,  his  clerk, 
That  took  some  pains  in  writing,  he  begg'cl  mine  ;  i8c 

And  neither  man  nor  master  would  take  aught 
But  the  two  rings. 

Portia.  What  ring  gave  you,  my  lord? 

Not  that,  I  hope,  which  you  receiv'd  of  me. 

Bassanio.   If  I  could  add  a  lie  unto  a  fault, 
I  would  deny  it;  but  you  see  my  finger 
Hath  not  the  ring  upon  it ;  it  is  gone. 

Portia.  Even  so  void  is  your  false  heart  of  truth. 
By  heaven,  I  will  ne'er  come  in  your  bed 
Until  I  see  the  ring. 

Nerissa.  Nor  I  in  yours, 

Till  I  again  see  mine. 

Bassanio.  Sweet  Portia,  190 

If  you  did  know  to  whom  I  gave  the  ring, 
If  you  did  know  for  whom  I  gave  the  ring, 
And  would  conceive  for  what  I  gave  the  ring, 
And  how  unwillingly  I  left  the  ring, 
When  nought  would  be  accepted  but  the  ring, 
You  would  abate  the  strength  of  your  displeasure. 

Portia.   If  you  had  known  the  virtue  of  the  ring, 
Or  half  her  worthiness  that  gave  the  ring, 
Or  your  own  honour  to  contain  the  ring, 


ACT  V.     SCENE  I.  I2I 

You  would  not  then  have  parted  with  the  ring.  2oo 

What  man  is  there  so  irmch  unreasonable,      -v 

If  you  had  pleas'd  to  have  defended  it 

\Vith  any  terms  of  zeal,  wanted  the  modesty 

To  urge  the  thing  held  as  a  ceremony? 

Nerissa  teaches  me  what  to  believe  ; 

I  '11  die  for  't  but  some  woman  had  the  ring. 

Bassanio.  No,  by  my  honour,  madam,  by  my  soul, 
No  woman  had  it,  but  a  civil  doctor, 
Which  did  refuse  three  thousand  ducats  of  me, 
And  begg'd  the  ring;  the  which  I  did  deny  him,  210 

And  sufifer'd  him  to  go  displeas'd  away, 
Even  he  that  did  upliold  the  very  life 
Of  my  dear  friend.     What  should  I  say,  sweet  lady  ? 
I  was  enforc'd  to  send  it  after  him  ; 
I  was  beset  with  shame  and  courtesy ; 
My  honour  would  not  let  ingratitude 
So  much  besmear  it.     Pardon  me,  good  lady ; 
For,  by  these  blessed  candles  of  the  night, 
Had  you  been  there,  I  think  you  would  have  begg'd 
The  ring  of  me  to  give  the  worthy  doctor.  220 

Portia.  Let  not  that  doctor  e'er  come  near  my  house. 
Since  he  hath  got  the  jewel  that  I  lov'd, 
And  that  which  you  did  swear  to  keep  for  me, 
T  will  become  as  liberal  as  you  ; 
I  '11  not  deny  him  any  thing  I  have. 

Antonio.  I  am  the  unhappy  subject  of  these  quarrels. 

Portia.   Sir,  grieve  not  you  ;   you   are  welcome  notwith- 
standing. 

Bassanio.  Portia,  forgive  me  this  enforced  wrong  ; 
And,  in  the  hearing  of  these  many  friends, 
I  swear  to  thee,  even  by  thine  own  fair  eyes,  230 

Wherein  I  see  myself, — 

Portia.  Mark  you  but  that! 

In  both  my  eyes  he  doubly  sees  himself; 


122  THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

In  each  eye,  one  ! — Swear  by  your  double  self, 
And  there  's  an  oath  of  credit. 

Bassanio.  Nay,  but  hear  me  : 

Pardon  this  fault,  and  by  my  soul  I  swear 
I  never  more  will  break  an  oath  with  thee. 

Antonio.   I  once  did  lend  my  body  for  his  wealth. 
Which,  but  for  him  that  had  your  husband's  ring, 
Had  quite  miscarried  ;  I  dare  be  bound  again, 
My  soul  upon  the  forfeit,  that  your  lord  '4° 

Will  never  more  break  faith  advisedly. 

Portia.  Then  you  shall  be  his  surety.     Give  him  this, 
And  bid  him  keep  it  better  than  the  other. 

Antonio.   Here,  lord  Bassanio  ;  swear  to  keep  this  ring. 

Bassanio.  By  heaven,  it  is  the  same  I  gave  the  doctor ! 

Portia.  You  are  all  amaz'd. 
Here  is  a  letter :  read  it  at  your  leisure; 
It  comes  from  Padua,  from  Bellario. 
There  you  shall  find  that  Portia  was  the  doctor, 
Nerissa  there  her  clerk  :  Lorenzo  here  250 

Shall  witness  I  set  forth  as  soon  as  you, 
And  even  but  now  returned  ;  I  have  not  yet 
Enter'd  my  house. — Antonio,  you  are  welcome  ; 
And  I  have  better  news  in  store  for  you 
Than  you  expect :  unseal  this  letter  soon  ; 
There  you  shall  find,  three  of  your  argosies 
Are  richly  come  to  harbour  suddenly. 
You  shall  not  know  by  what  strange  accident 
I  chanced  on  this  letter. 

Antonio.  Sweet  lady,  you  have  given  me  life  and  living  ;  26o 
For  here  I  read  for  certain  that  my  ships 
Are  safely  come  to  road. 

Portia.  How  now,  Lorenzo  ? 

My  clerk  hath  some  good  comforts  too  for  you. 

Nerissa.   Ay,  and  I  '11  give  them  him  without  a  fee. — 
There  do  I  give  to  you  and  Jessica, 


ACT  V.    SCENE  I. 


123 


From  the  rich  Jew,  a  special  deed  of  gift, 
After  his  death,  of  all  he  dies  possess'd  of. 

Lorenzo.  Fair  ladies,  you  drop  manna  in  the  way 
Of  starved  people. 

Portia.  It  is  almost  morning, 

And  yet  1  am  sure  you  are  not  satisfied  2?0 

Of  these  events  at  full.     Let  us  go  in  ; 
And  charge  us  there  upon  inter'gatories, 

we  will  answer  all  things  faithfully.  \Exeunt. 


THE  AVON   AND  STRATFORD  CHURCH. 


NOTES, 


ABBREVIATIONS   USED   IN   THE   NOTES. 

Abbott  (or  Gr.),  Abbott's  Shakespearian  Grammar. 

A.  S.,  Anglo-Saxon. 

B.  and  F.,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
B.  J.,  Ben  Jonson. 

Cf.  (confer),  compare. 

Coll.  MS.,  Manuscript  Corrections  of  Second  Folio,  edited  bv  Collier 

D.,  Dyce  (2d  ed.). 

Fol ,  following. 

Fr,  French. 

H.,  Hudson  (ist  ed.). 

H.'s  quarto,  Heyes's  quarto  edition  of  the  Play 

Id.  (idem},  the  same. 

K.,  Knight  (2d  ed.). 

N.  F.,  Norman-French. 

Prol.,  Prologue. 

R.'s  quarto,  Roberts's  qua.-to  edition  of  the  Flay. 

S.,  Shakespeare. 

Schmidt,  A.  Schmidt's  Shakespeare-Lexicon  (Sirlin,  1^74). 

Sr.,  Singer. 

St.,  Staunton. 

Theo.,  Theobald. 

V.,  Vevplanck. 

Var.  ed.,  the  Variorum  edition  of  Shakespeare  (1821). 

W.,  R.  Grant  White. 

Warb.,  Warburton. 

Wb.,  Webster's  Dictionary  (revised  quarto  edition  of  1879). 

Wore.,  Worcester's  Dictionary  (quarto  edition). 

Wr.,  Clark  and  Wright's  "  Clarendon  Press"  ed.  of  M.  of  V.  .Oxford,  1868). 

The  abbreviations  of  the  names  of  Shakespeare's  Plays  will  be  readily  understood ;  as 
T.  N.  for  Twelfth  Night,  Cor.  for  Coriolanns,  3  Hen.  VI.  for  The  Third  Part  of  King 
Uenry  the  Sixth,  etc.  P.  P.  refers  to  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  ;  V.  and  A .  to  Venus 
and  Adonis  ;  L.  C.  to  Lover's  Complaint ;  and  Satin,  to  the  Sonnets. 

When  the  abbreviation  of  the  name  of  a  play  is  followed  by  a  reference  to  page, 
R.olfe's  edition  of  the  play  is  meant.  The  numbers  of  the  lines  in  the  references  (ex 
cept  for  '.lie  present  play)  are  those  of  the  "  Globe  "  ed. 


NOTES. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — In  the  1st  folio,  the  play  is  divided  into  acts,  but  not  into 
scenes,  and  there  is  no  list  of  dramatis  persona;. 

i.  In  sooth.  In  truth.  A.  S.  soth  (truth,  true,  truly),  as  in  forsooth, 
soothsayer  (teller  of  hidden  truth).  Gower  alludes  to  the  origin  of  the 
latter  word  (Conf.  Am.  i.)  : 

''  That  for  he  wiste  he  snide  soth 
A  soth-saier  he  was  for  ever." 

3.  Came,  by  it.  A  familiar  colloquial  idiom  in  this  country,  but  appar- 
ently not  in  England,  since  the  editors  there  take  the  trouble  to  explain  it. 

8.  On  the  ocean.     Ocean  is  here  a  trisyllable  ;  as  in  2  Hen.  IV.  iii.  i. 
50.     See  Gr.  479  ;  and  cf.  Milton,  Hymn  on  Nativ.  66  :  "  Whispering 
new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean."     Cf.  also  opinion  in  102  below. 

9.  Argosies.     Merchant  vessels  (sometimes  war  vessels)  of  great  size 
for  that  day,  though  not  exceeding  two  hundred  tons.     The  name  is  from 
the  classical  Argo,  through  the  low  Latin  argis.    Cf.  T.  of  S.  ii.  I.  376,  etc. 

11.  Pageants.     The  word  in  S.  means  usually  a  theatrical  exhibition, 
literal  or  figurative.     Cf.  M.  Ar.  D.  p.  163.     See  also  the  verb  in  T.and 
C.  i.  3.  151  :   "he  pageants  us." 

12.  Do  overpeer.     This  use  of  the  auxiliary  was  common  in  Shake- 
speare's  time,  though  obsolescent.     Cf.  3  Hen.  VI.  v.  2.  14 :  "  Whose  top- 
branch  overpeer'd  Jove's  spreading  tree."     See  also  Ham.  iv.  5.  99,  etc. 


I28  NOTES. 

13.  Curtsy.  The  same  word  as  courtesy  ;  used  of  both  sexes.  The  quar- 
tos have  "  cursie."  Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  159. 

15.  Venture.     Still  used  in  this  commercial  sense.     Forth  —  abroad. 

17.  Still.  Ever,  constantly ;  as  in  136  below.  Cf.  "still-waking  sleep," 
R.and  J.\.  i.  187;  "still-vexed  Bermoothes,"  Temp.  i.  2.  229;  "still- 
closing  waters,"  Temp.  iii.  3.  64,  etc.  It  is  even  used  as  an  adjective  in 
the  sense  of  constant,  as  in  Rich.  III.  iv.  4.  229:  "still  use  of  grief," 
etc. 

24.  Might  do  at  sea.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  at  sea,  might  do." 

27.  My  wealthy  Andrew.     My  richly  freighted  ship.     Some  suppose 
the  name  to  be  taken  from  that  of  the  famous  Genoese  admiral,  Andrea 
Doria,  who  died  1560.     For  docked  the  early  eds.  have  "docks;"  cor- 
rected by  Rowe. 

28.  Vailing.    Lowering.     Cf.  "  Vail  your  regard  "  ( —  let  fall  your  look), 
M.for  M.  v.  i.  20,  etc.     The  word  is  contracted  from  avail  or  avale,  the 
French  avaler  (from  Latin  ad  vallem}.     Spenser  uses  avale,  both  with  an 
object  (Shep.  Kal.  Jan.  73)  and  without  one  (F.  Q.  ii.  9.  10). 

35.  But  even  now  worth  this.  The  force  of  this  (=all  this,  so  much) 
was  probably  meant  to  be  expressed  by  a  gesture. 

38.  Bechanced.     On  the  prefix  be-  see  Gr.  438. 

40.   To  think  upon.     From  thinking  upon.     Gr.  356. 

42.  Bottom.  This  word,  like  venture,  is  still  used  in  commerce  in  the 
same  sense  as  here.  Cf.  A'.  John,  ii.  I.  73:  "the  English  bottoms;"  T. 
N.  v.  i.  60  :  "  the  most  noble  bottom  of  our  fleet,"  etc. 

50.  Two-headed  Janus.  The  allusion  is  probably  to  those  ancient 
bifrontine  images  in  which  a  grave  face  was  associated  with  a  laughing 
one. 

52.  Peep  through  '.heir  eyes.     That  is,  eyes  half  shut  with  laughter. 

54.  Other  of  siuh  vinegar  aspect.  Other  is  often  plural  in  S.  and  other 
writers  of  the  time.  Cf.  Job,  xxiv.  24,  Luke,  xxiii.  32,  rhil.  ii.  3,  iv.  3.  Gr. 
12.  Aspect  is  always  accented  on  the  last  syllable  in  S.  Cf.  Spenser, 
F.  Q.  i.  12.  23  :  "  Most  ugly  shapes,  and  horrible  aspects  ;"  Milton,  P.  L. 
iii.  266  :  "  His  words  here  ended,  but  his  meek  aspect,"  etc.  This  is  but 
one  illustration  out  of  many  that  show  the  tendency  of  the  accent  in  Eng- 
lish to  fall  back  toward  the  beginning  of  the  word.  Thus  we  have  char- 
acter1 d  in  S.  (  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  7.  4,  etc.)  and  Milton  (Comus,  530) ;  contrary 
in  S.  (Ham.  iii.  2.  221,  etc.)  and  Spenser  (F.  Q.  iii.  i.  47,  iii.  2.  40,  etc.)  ;  rev- 
enue  in  S.  (Ham.  iii.  2.  63,  etc.)  ;  solemnized  in  S.  (L.  L.  L.  ii.  I.  42)  and 
Spenser  (F.  Q.  v.  2.  3) ;  etc. 

56.  Nestor.  The  oldest  of  the  Greek  heroes  in  the  Iliad,  famed  for  his 
wisdom  and  gravity.  See  T.  and  C.  i.  3.  32,  etc. 

61.  Prevented.  In  its  primitive  sense  of  anticipated.  Cf.  Ham.  ii.  2. 
305,  etc.  ;  also  Ps.  cxix.  147,  and  i  Thess.  iv.  15. 

67.  Exceeding  strange.  S.,  like  other  writers  of  his  time,  often  uses 
exceeding  as  an  adverb.  lie  uses  exceedingly  only  five  times — in  four  of 
which  it  modifies  the  adverb  well  ("exceedingly  well  met,"  L.  L.  L.  iii. 
i.  144,  etc),  while  in  the  fifth  (Ham.  v.  2.  103)  it  modifies  an  adjective 
understood.  Cf.  Gen.  xv.  I,  2  Sam.  viii.  8,  etc.  Exceeding  sCrange  =  o\xc 
expression,  "very  much  of  a  stranger." 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 


129 


74.  Respect  upon  the  ivorld.  Regard  for  the  world.  "There  is  an  allu- 
sion to  the  literal  meaning  of  respect:  'You  look  too  much  upon  the 
world' "  (Gr.  191). 

78.  A  stage.     Cf.  the  famous  passage,  "  All  the  world  's  a  stage,"  A.  Y. 
L.  ii.  7.  139  fol. 

79.  Let  me  play  the  fool.     Let  the  part  assigned  to  me  be  that  of  the 
fool ;  who  was  always  one  of  the  characters  in  the  old  comedies.     Cf. 
2  Hen.  IV.  ii.  2.  154  :  "  thus  we  play  the  fools  with  the  time  ;"  and  Lear, 
iv.  i.  40:   "Bad  is  the  trade  that  must  play  fool  to  sorrow." 

81.  Liver.     Cf.  A.  and  C.  ii.  I.  23:  "I  had  rather  heat  my  liver  with 
drinking." 

82.  Than  my  heart  cool,  etc.     There  may  be  an  allusion  here  to  the  old 
belief  that  every  sigh  or  groan  robbed  the  heart  of  a  drop  of  blood.     Cf. 
M.  Ar.  D.  iii.  2.  97  :  "  Sighs  of  love  that  costs  the  fresh  blood  dear."     See 
our  ed.  p.  163. 

84.  Alabaster.     All  the  early  eds.  have  "alablaster,"  as  in  all  other 
instances  of  the  word  in  S.     Cf.  Spenser,  F.  Q.  iii.  2. 42  :  "  Her  alablaster 
breast,"  etc. 

85.  Creep  into  the  jaundice.     In  the  only  other  passage  in  which  S. 
mentions  the  jaundice,  the  cause  of  the  disease  is,  as  here,  a  mental  one. 
See  T.  and  C.  i.  3.  2. 

89.  Do  cream  and  mantle.     Cf.  Lear,  iii.  4.  139:   "the  green  mantle 
of  the  standing  pool."     R.'s  quarto  has  "dreame"  for  cream. 

90.  And  do  a  wilful  stillness  entertain.     And  who  do  maintain  an  ob- 
stinate silence.     This  kind  of  ellipsis  is  not  uncommon  in  writers  of  the 
time.     Cf.  Bacon  (Adv.  of  L.)  :  "  His  eye  and  tooth  they  lent  to  Perseus ; 
and  so  ...  (he)  hastens  towards  Medusa  ;"  and  Spenser  (F.  Q.  i.  i.  19) : 

"  His  gall  did  grate  for  griefe  and  high  disdaine, 
And  knitting  all  his  force  [he]  got  one  hand  free." 

91.  With  purpose  to  be  dress1  d.     Cf.  "with  purpose  presently  to  leave," 
etc.,  K.  John,  v.  7.  86  ;  "  with  purpose  to  relieve,"  i  Hen.  VI.  i.  i.  133,  etc. 

Opinion  of  wisdom.     Reputation  for  wisdom. 

92.  Conceit.     Intellect.     Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  p.  194,  note  on  50. 

93.  As  who  should  say.     Like  one  who  should  say.    Cf.  T.  ofS.  iv.  3.  13 : 

"As  who  should  say,  if  I  should  sleep  or  eat, 
'T  were  deadly  sickness,  or  else  present  death." 

The  early  folios  read  :  "  I  am  sir  an  Oracle." 

96.  That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise,  etc.     That  are  reputed  wise 
only  on  this  account,  that  they  say  nothing.     For  similar  tranposition 
of  a  clause  with  therefore,  see  Jsa.  v.  13  and  John,  viii.  47.     Pope  calls 
silence  "Thou  varnisher  of  fools,  and  cheat  of  all  the  wise." 

97.  When,  I  am  very  sure,  etc.    Rowe  changes  when  to  "who,"  and  Coll. 
reads  "'twould"  for  would;  but  it  is  probable  that  we  have  here  an 
ellipsis  of  the  nominative,  as  in  90  above.     Cf.  Gr.  399.     Would  almost 
damn,  etc.,  means  that  the  hearers  could  hardly  help  calling  them  fools, 
and  thus  exposing  themselves  to  the  judgment  threatened  in  Scripture 
(Matt.  v.  22). 

102.  Fool-gudgeon.     Old  Izaak  Walton  says  of  the  gudgeon  :  "  It  is  an 

I 


130  NOTES. 

excellent  fish  to  enter  (initiate)  a  young  angler,  being  easy  to  be  taken.'"1 
On  the  adjective  use  of  fool,  cf.  "  fool  multitude,"  ii.  9.  25  below. 

108.  Moe.     More.     See  A.  Y.  L.  p.  1 76. 

no.  For  this  gear.  For  this  purpose,  or  matter;  an  expression  some- 
times used,  as  here,  without  very  definite  meaning. 

116.  Yon  shall  seek  all  day.  Shall  and  should  are  often  used  in  all 
three  persons,  by  the  Elizabethan  writers,  to  denote  mere  futurity.  Sec 
Gr.  315,  322  fol. 

124.  By  something  showing.     This  adverbial  use  of  something  (=some* 
what),  which  occurs  twice  in  this  speech,  is  common  in  S.     Gr.  68. 

Afore  swelling  fort.  Grander  state.  Cf.  "greatest  port,"  iii.  2.  283 
below,  and  "keep  house,  and  port,  and  servants,"  T.  of  S.  i.  i.  208. 

125.  Would  grant  continuance.     That  is,  continuance  of.    Such  ellipsis 
is  common  in  the  Elizabethan  writers.     Cf.  ii.  6.  9  and  iv.  I.  380  below  ; 
and  see  Gr.  394  (cf.  202). 

126.  Make  moan  to  be  abridged.    "Complain  that  I  am  curtailed."    Cf. 
"made  moan  to  me,"  iii.  3.  23  below. 

130.  Gug'd.  Engaged,  bound.  Cf.  7\  and  C.  v.  i.  46:  "gaging  me  to 
keep  An  oath,"  etc. 

136.  Still.     See  on  17  above. 

137.  Within  the  eye  of  honour.    Within  the  range  of  what  can  be  viewed 
(or  regarded)  as  honourable. 

«     139.  Occasions.     Needs  ;  here  a  quadrisyllable.     See  on  8  above. 

141.  Flight.     A  technical  term  to  denote  the  range  of  an  arrow.     Wr. 
quotes   Ascham's  Toxophilus :  "You  must  have  divers  shafts  of  one 
flight,  feathered  with  divers  wings,  for  divers  winds." 

142.  More  advised.     More  careful.     See  Rich.  II.  i.  3.  188:  "advised 
purpose,"  that  is,  deliberate  purpose.     Cf.  the  modern  use  of  unadvised. 

143.  To  find  the  other  forth.     To  find  the  other  out.     Cf.  "to  find  his 
fellow  forth,"  C.  of  E.  i.  2.37  ;  and  "inquire  you  forth,"  T.  G.ofV.\\.^.  186. 

144.  Childhood  proof.     Experiment  of  my  childhood. 

146.  Like  a  wilful  youth.  Elliptical  for  "like  what  will  happen  with  a 
wilful  (that  is,  wilful  in  his  prodigality)  youth."  For  wilful  Warb.  reads 
"witless,"  and  the  Coll.  MS.  "wasteful." 

148.  That  self  way.  That  same  way.  Cf.  "this  self  place,"  3  Hen. 
VI.  iii.  i.  1 1  ;  "  that  self  mould,  Rich.  II.  i.  2.  23,  etc.  This  use  of  self\s 
found  before  Chaucer  ("  self  lond,"  Robt.  of  Glouc.,  A.D.  1298) ;  and  even 
so  late  a  writer  as  Dryden  has  "at  that  self  moment." 

154.  Circumstance.  Circumlocution;  as  in  Ham.  \.  5.  127,  C.ofE.v. 
i.  28,  Oth.  i.  i.  13,  etc. 

156.  In  making  question,  etc.  "In  doubting  my  readiness  to  do  my 
utmost  in  your  service  "  (Wr.). 

160.  Prest.    Ready  ;  the  old  French  prest  (now  prel),  Italian  and  Span- 
ish presto,  from  Latin  adv.  prcesto,  through  the  late  Latin  pr&slus.     Cf. 
Per.  iv.  prol.  45. 

161.  Richly  left.     Cf.  "  those  rich-left  heirs,"  Cymb.  iv.  2.  226. 

163.  Sometimes.  In  time  past,  formerly.  Sometimes  and  sometime  are 
used  interchangeably  by  S.  in  this  and  their  other  senses.  See  Gr.  6£i, 
Cf.  also  Col.  \.  21,  iii.  7  with  Eph.  ii.  13. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  II.  I<31 

165.  Nothing  undervalued.     Nowise  inferior.     Cf.  ii.  7.  53  below. 

166.  Brutus'1  Portia.     See  Julius  Cccsar,  in  which  this  "woman  well 
reputed,  Cato's  daughter,"  is  a  prominent  character. 

170.  Like  a  golden  fleece,  etc.  The  Argonautic  expedition  is  alluded 
to  again,  iii.  2.  243  below  :  "  We  are  the  Jasons,  we  have  won  the  fleece." 
y  175.  I  have  a  mind  presages.  That  is,  which  presages.  This  omission 
of  the  relative  was  very  common  in  S.'s  time.  Cf.  M.for  M.  ii.  2.  34  : 
"  I  have  a  brother  is  condemned  to  die  ;"  W.  T.  v.  i.  23  :  "  You  are  one 
of  those  Would  have  him  wed  again."  In  modern  usage,  the  objective 
is  sometimes  omitted,  but  the  nominative  very  rarely.  Gr.  244. 

Thrift.  Success.  Cf.  "well-won  thrift"  and  "thrift  is  blessing,"  1.3. 
44,  80  below. 

178.  Commodity.  Property.  In  iii.  3.  27  below  the  word  is  used  in 
the  obsolete  sense  of  advantage  or  gain.  Cf.  W.  T.  iii.  2.  94 :  "  To  me 
can  life  be  no  commodity;"  Lear,  iv.  I.  23:  "our  mere  defects  Prove 
our  commodities,"  etc. 

183.  Presently.  Immediately.  Cf.  Temp.'w.  1.42:  "Ariel.  Presently? 
Prospero.  Ay,  with  a  twink  ;"  and  again,  v.  I.  101  :  "Prospero.  And  pres- 
ently, I  prithee.  Ariel.  I  drink  the  air  before  me,  and  return  Or  ere  your 
pulse  beat  twice ;"  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  7.  89 :  "Come,  answer  not,  but  to  it 
presently  !"  See  also  i  Sam.  ii.  16,  and  Matt.  xxvi.  53. 

185.  To  have  it  of  my  trust,  etc.  Of  obtaining  it  either  on  my  credit  as 
a  merchant,  or  as  a  personal  favour. 

Note  the  rhyme  in  the  last  couplet,  as  often  at  the  close  of  a  scene. 

SCENE  II. — i.  Aweary.    Cf.  M.  N.  D.  v.  i.  255,  Macb.  v.  5.  49,  etc. 
\  6.  It  is  no  mean  happiness.     So  in  the  quartos.     The  folios  have  "no 

small  happiness."     The  repetition  is  in  Shakespeare's  manner. 

1 8.  But  this  reasoning  is  not  in  the  fashion.  The  1st  folio  has,  "  But  this 
reason  is  not  in  fashion  ;"  and  below,  "  It  is  not  hard  "  for  "  Is  it  not  hard." 

23.  Nor  refuse  none.  Foi  the  double  negative,  cf.  A'.  John,  v.  7,  112: 
"This  England  never  did,  nor  never  shall,"  etc.  Gr.  406. 

28.  But  one  who  you  shall  riglitly  Icve.  Who  is  the  object,  not  the  sub» 
ject,  of  love,  as  appears  from  the  question  which  follows  :  What  affection 
have  you  for  any  of  the  suitors  that  are  already  come  ?  Who  for  whom 
is  not  unusual  in  the  writers  of  the  time.  Cf.  ii.  6.  30  below.  Gr.  274. 

30.  Are  already  come.     On  are  come  {—-have  come),  see  Gr.  295. 

33.  Level  at.  Aim  at,  guess.  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV.  iii.  2.  286 :  "  the  foeman 
may  with  as  great  aim  level  at  the  edge  of  a  penknife."  The  noun  is 
used  in  the  same  way,  as  in  Hen.  VIII.  i.  2.  2  :  "I  stood  i'  the  level  Of  a 
full-charg'd  confederacy." 

\         36.  Makes  it  a  great  appropriation,  etc.     That  is,  takes  great  credit  to 
himself  for  it.     S.  nowhere  else  uses  either  appropriation  or  appropriate. 

38.  Then  is  there  the  County  Palatine.  The  folio  has  it,  "  Than  is  there 
the  Countie  Palentine."  Than  and  then  are  different  forms  of  the  same 
word,  used  interchangeably  by  old  writers..  Cf.  K.  of  L.  1440.  For  county 
=  count,  see  R.  and  J.  (where  it  occurs  eleven  times),  A.  W.  iii.  7.  22,  etc. 

40.  An  you  will  not.  The  folio  has  "  And  you."  And  or  an  for  *^"is 
very  common  in  old  writers,  as  well  as  and  if  'or  an  if.  See  Gr.  105. 


132 


MOTES. 


\  41.  The  weeping  philosopher.  Heracleitus,  of  Ephesus,  who,  from  his 
melancholy  disposition,  is  represented  in  various  old  traditions  as  the 
contrast  to  Democritus  ("the  laughing  philosopher"),  weeping  over  the 
frailties  and  follies  at  which  the  latter  laughed. 

43.  /  had  rather  to  be  married.  Had  ralher  and  had  better  are  good  En- 
glish, though  many  writers  of  grammars  tell  us  that  we  should  say  -would 
rather,  etc.,  instead.  Cf.  A.  Y.  I.,  p.  158.  In  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  192,  we  find 
the  impersonal  form,  "  me  rather  had."  See  Gr.  230.  Rather  is  the  com- 
parative of  rath  (see  Milton,  Lycidas:  "the  rath  primrose"),  and  is  often 
found  in  the  old  writers  in  the  sense  of  earlier,  sooner.  Thus  Spenser, 
Shep.  Kal.  Feb.,  speaks  of  "  the  rather  lambes."  The  to  is  omitted  by  the 
quartos  and  many  modern  editors,  but  it  is  found  in  the  folio.  Cf.  Oth. 
i.  3.  191 :  "I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child,"  etc.  For  to  with  the  infini- 
tive, and  examples  of  its  use  by  S.  where  it  would  now  be  omitted,  and 
its  omission  where  it  would  now  be  used,  see  Gr.  349  fol. 

46.  How  say  you  by,  etc.  By  here,  as  not  unfrequently  =af>e>ut  or  con- 
cerning. Cf.  ii.  9.  25  :  "  may  be  meant  by  the  fool  multitude."  So  Latimer 
(Serm.) :  "  How  think  you  by  the  ceremonies,"  etc.  So  in  i  Cor.  iv.  4,  "  I 
know  nothing  by  myself,"  that  is,  am  conscious  of  nothing  (of  guilt)  con- 
cerning (or  against)  myself.  Gr.  145.  For  "  Monsieur  le  Bon  "  the  earl/ 
eds.  have  "  Mounsier  Le  Boune." 

52.  Tkroslle.  Pope's  emendation  for  the  "  trassell  "  of  the  quartos  and 
1st  folio.  The  other  folios  have  "  tarssell  "  or  "  tassell." 

A -caper ing.     See  Gr.  24. 

62.  A  proper  mail's  picture.  A  proper  man  is  a  man  "  as  he  should  be  " 
(Craik);  often,  a  handsome  man.  S.  uses  properer  (R.  and  J.  ii.  4.  217) 
and  properest  (Much  Ado,  v.  i.  174)  in  the  same  sense.  Improper  (  = 
unbecoming)  he  uses  but  once  (Lear,  v.  3.  221). 

64.  Suited.  Dressed.  Cf.  "richly  suited,"  A.  W.  i.  I.  170,  and  Milton's 
"civil-suited  morn"  (II  Pens.}. 

Doublet.  "The  doublet  (so  called  from  being  originally  lined  or  wad- 
ded for  defence)  was  a  close-fitting  coat,  with  skirts  reaching  a  little  be- 
low the  girdle."  The  "round  hose"  were  coverings  for  the  legs,  not  the 
feet — "  trowsers  or  breeches,  reaching  to  the  knee."  The  phrase  "  doub- 
let and  hose,"  as  equivalent  to  "coat  and  breeches,"  occurs  often  in  S. 
See  M.  W.  iii.  3.  35,  Much  Ado,  v.  i.  203,  A.  Y.  L.  iii.  2.  206,  232,  etc. 
"  French  hose  "  are  referred  to  in  Macb.  ii.  3.  16  and  Hen.  K.  iii.  7.  56. 
Bonnet,  originally  the  name  of  a  stuff,  came  to  be  applied  to  the  man's 
cap  made  of  it,  as  it  still  is  in  Scottish. 

67.  The  Scottish  lord.  The  Scottish  of  the  quartos,  printed  before  the 
accession  of  James  I.,  was  changed  to  other  in  the  folio  of  1623,  to  avoid 
giving  offence  to  that  monarch.  Warb.  sees  in  this  passage  an  allusion 
to  the  "  constant  promises  of  assistance  that  the  French  gave  the  Scots 
in  their  quarrels  with  the  English." 

7 1 .  Sealed  under  for  another.    Became  surety  for  another  box  on  the  ear. 

74.  Vilely.     Vildly  or  vildely  in  the  early  eds.,  as  almost  always. 

80.  You  should  refuse.     For  the  should,  see  Gr.  322. 

90.  Some  other  sort.  Some  other  way  ;  or  perhaps  sort  may  be  =lott  as 
W.  suggests.  Cf.  "draw  the  sort,"  T.  and  C.  1.3.  376.  Imposition  —  con- 


ACT  I.    SCENE  III.  ,33 

dition  imposed.  In  iii.  4.  33  the  word  is  used  again  In  this  literal  sense 
of  something  "  laid  upon  "  one  as  a  burden  or  duty. 

92.  Sibylla.  Here  used  as  a  proper  name,  like  "  Sibyl  "  in  7!  of  S.  i. 
2.  70.  So  Bacon,  in  Colours  of  Good  and  Evil,  10,  speaks  of  "  Sybilla,  when 
she  brought  her  three  books,"  and  in  Adv.  of  L.  ii.  23.  33,  of  "  Sybiliaes 
books."  But  in  Oth.  iii.  4.  70  we  have  "A  sibyl,"  and  in  I  Hen.  VI. 
\.  2.  56,  "nine  sibyls."  The  reference  here  is  to  the  Cumaean  sibyl,  who 
obtained  from  Apollo  a  promise  that  her  years  should  be  as  many  as  the 
grains  of  sand  she  was  holding  in  her  hand.  The  story  is  told  by  Ovid, 
Met.  xv. 

94.  This  parcel  of  wooers.  Cf.  "This  youthful  parcel  of  noble  bach- 
elors," A.  IV.  ii.  3.  58. 

96.  /  wish  them  a  fair  departure.  The  quartos  read,  "  I  pray  God 
grant  them,"  etc.  It  has  been  supposed  that  the  latter  was  the  original 
reading,  and  that  it  was  changed  in  the  folio  on  account  of  the  act  of 
Parliament,  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  against  the  use  of  the  name  of  God 
on  the  stage.  But  the  folio  has  the  word  God  in  more  than  a  dozen 
places  in  the  play,  and  Portia  herself  (though  W.  thinks  it  would  not 
"suit  her  lips"  in  this  case)  has  used  it  twice  already  in  this  very  scene. 
In  ii.  2,  Launcelot  uses  it  often  and  profanely. 

105.  Thy  praise.     The  quartos  (followed  by  some  modern  eds.)  add 
"  How  now  !  what  news  ?" 

106.  Seek  for  you.     The-folios  om\tfor. 

1 10.  With  so  good  heart  as,  etc.  We  now  seldom  use  so  .  .  .  as,  prefer- 
ring as  .  .  .  as,  except  where  so  requires  special  emphasis.  Gr.  275. 

112.  Condition.  Nature,  disposition.  Cf.  Oth.  ii.  i.  255  :  "she  's  full  of 
most  blessed  condition  ;"  and  Rich.  III.  iv.  4.  157 :  "I  have  a  touch  of 
your  condition,"  etc.  Cf.  also  "best  conditioned,"  iii.  2.  295  below. 

116.  Whiles.  The  genitive  singular  of  while  (which  was  originally  a 
noun)  used  as  an  adverb.  It  occurs  in  Matt.  v.  25.  See  Gr.  137. 

SCENE  III. — I.  Ducats.  The  value  of  the  Venetian  silver  ducat  was 
about  that  of  the  American  dollar. 

4.  For  the  which.  This  archaism  is  occasionally  found  in  S.,  as  in  the 
Bible  (Gen.  i.  29,  etc.).  The  who  is  never  found;  perhaps,  as  Abbott 
suggests,  because  which  is  considered  an  adjective  and  indefinite,  while 
who  is  not.  So  in  French  we  have  lequel,  but  not  le  qui.  See  Gr.  270. 

6.  May  you  stead  me  ?  Can  you  assist  me  ?  May  originally  expressed 
ability,  as  the  noun  might  still  does.  Can,  on  the  other  hand,  signified 
"to  know  or  have  skill."  We  have  both  words  in  their  old  sense  in 
Chaucer's  line  (C.  T.  2314),  "  Now  helpe  me,  lady,  sith  ye  may  and  can." 
This  archaic  can  is  found  in  Ham.  iv.  7.  85  :  "  they  can  well  on  horse- 
back," that  is,  are  well  skilled  in  riding.  On  stead,  cf.  M,  for  M.  i.  4. 
'17  :  "Can  you  so  stead  me  As  bring  me  to  the  sight  of  Isabella?"  and 
A.  W.  v.  3.  87  :  "  to  reave  her  Of  what  should  stead  her  most." 

Pleasure  me.  So  in  M.  W.  i.  i.  251  :  "What  I  do  is  to  pleasure  you, 
coz."  See  also  Much  Ado,  v.  1. 129  and  3  Hen.  VI.  iii.  2. 22.  Cf.  Gr.  290. 

ii.  A  good  man.  That  is,  "good"  in  the  commercial  sense — "having 
pecuniary  ability  ;  of  unimpaired  credit"  (Wb.). 


I34  NOTES. 

13.  Ho,  no,  etc.     The  reading  of  all  the  early  eds. 

15.  In  supposition.     Doubtful,  risked  at  sea. 

16.  Tripolis.     The  old  name  of  Tripoli,  a  seaport  of  Syria,  formerly 
of  great  commercial  importance. 

17.  Rialto.    The  chief  of  the  islands  on  which  Venice  is  built  was  called 
Isola  di  Rialto  (rivo  alto],  the  Island  of  the  Deep  Stream.     The  name 
Rialto  came  also  to  be  applied  to  the  Exchange,  which  was  on  that  island. 
It  is  the  Exchange  which  is  here  meant — "a  most  stately  building  .  .  . 
where  the  Venetian  gentlemen  and  the  merchants  doe  meete  twice  a  day, 
betwixt  eleven  and  twelve  of  the  clocke  in  the  morning,  and  betwixt  five 
and  sixe  of  the  clocke  in  the  afternoon  "  (Coryat's  Crudities,  161 1).     The 
bridge  known  as  the  Rialto  (Ponte  di  Rialto)  was  begun  in  1588  and  fin- 
ished in  1591. 

18.  Squandered.     Scattered.     So  in  Howell's  Letters,  1650,  we  have 
"islands  that  lie  squandered  in  the  vast  ocean."     Even  Dryden  (Anntts 
Mirab.}  has  "They  drive,  they  squander  the  huge  Belgian  fleet."     S. 
uses  the  word  only  here  and  in  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  7.  57  :  "  squandering  glances." 

19.  There  be  land-rats.     In  old  English,  besides  the  present  tense  am, 
etc.,  there  was  also  this  form  be,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  beon.     The  2d 
pers.  sing,  was  beest.     The  ist  and  3d  pers.  plu.  be  is  often  found  in  S. 
and  the  Bible.     Cf.  Gr.  300. 

27.  If  il  please  you.  This  impersonal  form  (cf.  the  French  s'il  vans 
plait],  after  being  contracted  into  if  you  please,  has  come  to  be  considered 
as  personal,  and  we  now  say  if  I  please,  if  he  pleases,  etc.  The  verb  thus 
gets  a  new  meaning,  to  please  becoming  —to  be  pleased. 

30.  And  so  following.    And  so  forth.    S.  uses  the  phrase  nowhere  else. 

36.  For  he  is  a  Christian.  We  should  now  say,  for  being  a  Christian. 
When  thus  used,  for  is  often  followed  by  that,  as  in  the  next  line.  Of 
course  we  could  now  say,  "I  hate  him,  for  he  is  a  Christian,"  but  the 
meaning  would  be  different.  In  this  case,  as  in  the  other,  the  for  is 
equivalent  to  because,  but  it  connects  more  loosely,  as  the  comma  indi- 
cates. The  difference  in  meaning  is  perhaps  better  illustrated  by  a  case 
like  the  following  (M.for  M.  ii.  i.  27)  : 

"  You  may  not  so  extenuate  his  offence 
For  I  have  had  such  faults;" 

that  is,  the  fact  that  I  have  been  guilty  is  no  excuse  for  him.     The  mod- 
ern reading  would  make  nonsense  of  it. 

39.  Usance.     Interest.     Thomas,  in  his  Historye  of  Italy e,  1561,  says  : 
"It  is  almoste  incredyble  what  gaine  the  Venetians  receiue  by  the  vsury 
of  the  Jewes,  both  pryuately  and  in  common.     For  in  euerye  citee  the 
Jewes  kepe  open  shops  of  vsurie,  taking  gaiges  of  ordinarie  for  xv.  in  the 
hundred  by  the  yere  :  and  if  at  the  yeres  ende,  the  gaige  be  not  redemed, 
it  is  forfeite,  or  at  the  least  dooen  away  to  a  great  disaduantage  :  by  rea- 
son whereof  the  Jewes  are  out  of  measure  wealthie  in  those  parties." 

40.  Upon  the  hip.     To  "catch  upon  the  hip"  was  a  phrase  used  by 
wrestlers.     Some  make  it  refer  to  hunting,  "  because,  when  the  animal 
pursued  is  seized  upon  the  hip,  it  is  finally  disabled  from  flight.'7'     Cf. 
iv.  I.  330  below,  and  Oth.  ii.  I.  314. 

45.  Which  he  calls  interest.     Usance,  usury,  and  interest  were  equivalent 


ACT  I,     SCENE  III. 


'35 


terms  in  S.'s  day.  It  was  disreputable  to  take  interest  at  all.  It  was 
considered  "  against  nature  for  money  to  beget  money."  See  Bacon's 
Essay  on  Usurie. 

47.  Debating  of  my  present  store.  Of  is  often  used  by  the  Elizabethan 
writers  in  the  sense  of  about  or  concerning.  Cf.  Temp.  ii.  i.  81  :  "You 
make  me  study  of  that,"  etc.  See  Gr.  174. 

53.  Rest  yon  fair.  "  Heaven  grant  you  fair  fortune  !"  Cf.  "  Rest  you 
merry  !"  (/?.  and  J.  i.  2.  65)  "  God  rest  you  merry  !"  (A.  Y.  L.V.I.  165),  etc, 

56.  Excess.     More  than  the  sum  lent  or  borrowed  ;  interest. 

57.  Ripe  wants.     Wants  that  admit  of  no  delay,  like  ripe  fruit  that 
must  be  gathered  at  once. 

58.  Possessed.    Informed.    Cf.  iv.  i.  35  below  :  "  I  have  possessed  your 
grace  of  what  I  purpose  ;"  Cor.  ii.  i.  145  :  "  Is  the  senate  possessed  of 
this?"  etc. 

59.  How  much  yon  would.     The  folio  misprints  "he  would."      Wozdd 
is  often  used  absolutely,  as  here,  for  wish  or  require. 

63.  Methought.  This  thought  is  from  the  A.  S.  verb  thincan,  to  seem, 
and  not  from  thencan,  to  think.  It  is  used  impersonally,  the  me  being  a 
dative.  Methonght  —  \\.  seemed  to  me.  In  Chaucer  we  nnd  him  thoughte, 
hem  (them)  thoughte,  hir  (her)  thonghte,  etc. 

65.   When  Jacob,  etc.     See  Gen.  xxvii.  and  xxx. 

72.  Were  compromised.     Had  mutually  agreed. 

73.  Eanlings.     Lambs  just  brought  forth  ;  from  A.  S.  eanian,  to  bring 
forth.     Yeanling  is  another  form  of  the  same  word,  and  was  substituted 
by  Pope  here. 

Pied.  Spotted.  We  have  "daisies  pied"  in  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  904  (and  in 
Milton's  L?  Allegro}  ;  and  in  Temp.  iii.  2.  71  Caliban  calls  Trinculo  a 
"pied  ninny,"  from  the  parti-coloured  coat  which  he  wore  as  a  jester. 

75.  Piird  me.  Peeled.  Cf.  the  Bible  narrative  (  Gen.  xxx.  37,  38 ). 
The  me  is  expletive,  as  often.  See  the  dialogue  between  Petruchio  and 
Grumio  in  T.  of  S.  i.  2.  8  fol.  Gr.  220. 

78.  Fall.     Let  fall,  bring  forth.     Gr.  291. 

84.  Was  this  inserted,  etc.  Was  this  inserted  in  Scripture  to  justify 
usury  ? 

88.  The  devil  can  cite  Scripture.     See  Matt.  iv.  4,  6. 

89.  Producing  holy  -witness.     Adducing  sacred  authority. 

95.  Beholding.    Often  used  by  S.,  Bacon,  and  othsr  writers  of  the  time, 
instead  of  beholden,  which,  as  Craik  has  shown,  is  probably  a  corrupted 
form  of  gehealden,  the  perfect  participle  of  A.  S.  healdan,  to  hold,  whence 
its  meaning  of  held,  bound,  obliged. 

96.  Many  a  time  and  oft.     An  old  phrase,  still  familiar,  =many  and 
many  a  time,  that  is,  many  times,  and  yet  again  many  more  times. 

lot.  Misbeliever.  Strictly,  one  who  believes  wrongly,  as  unbeliever  is 
one  who  does  not  believe,  or  an  infidel.  S.  uses  the  word  only  here. 

102.  Spet.  An  obsolete  spelling  of  spit,  used  occasionally  by  S.,  as  it 
is  by  Milton  in  the  one  instance  (Camus,  132)  in  which  he  employs  the 
word. 

Gaberdine.  A  long  coarse  frock.  See  Temp.  ii.  2. 40,  115.  The  garment 
and  the  name  are  still  used  by  the  peasantry  in  some  parts  of  England. 


I36  NOTES. 

105.  Goto.  A  phrase  of  exhortation  or  encouragement,  sometimes  used 
scornfully.  Cf.  Temp.  v.  I.  297,  M.  W.  i.  4.  165,  etc. ;  also  Gen.  xi.  4,  etc. 

124.  A  breed  of  barren  metal.  The  quartos  have  "  a  breed  for."  Breed 
is  money  bred  from  the  principal.  Shylock  had  used  the  same  metaphor 
for  interest. 

126.  Who  if  he  break.  The  "relative  with  a  supplementary  pronoun" 
(Gr.  248,  249)  often  occurs  in  the  writers  of  the  time.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  935  : 

"Who,  when  he  liv'd,  his  breath  and  beauty  set 
Gloss  on  the  rose,  smell  on  the  violet." 

"  If  he  break"  that  is,  "  break  his  day,"  a  current  expression  —fail  to 
fulfil  his  engagement.  Shylock  uses  the  phrase  below. 

128.  I  would  be  friends  with  you.  A  "grammatical  impropriety,"  but 
even  now  a  familiar  idiom. 

130.  Doit.  A  small  Dutch  coin,  worth  about  a  quarter  of  a  cent.  Cf. 
T.  of  A.  i.  I.  217  :  "  Which  will  not  cost  a  man  a  doit ;"  and  Cor.  v-4-  60  : 
"  I  'd  not  have  given  a  doit." 

135.  Your  single  bond.     Your  individual  bond,  without  sureties. 

In  a  merry  sport.     In  the  old  ballad  of  Gernutits,  the  Jew  says : 

"  But  we  will  haue  a  merry  iest, 

for  to  be  talked  long : 
You  shall  make  me  a  i?and  (quoth  he) 
that  shall  be  large  and  strong. 

And  this  shall  be  the  forfeylure, 

of  your  own  Flesh  a  pound : 
If  you  agree,  make  you  the  Band, 

and  here  is  a  hundred  Crownes. '' 

138.  Let  the  forfeit,  etc.  Let  the  forfeit  named  as  an  equivalent  be  a 
pound  of  your  flesh. 

141.  Pleaseth  me.  That  is,  "it  pleaseth  me"  (the  folio  reading).  See 
on  27  above.  In  C.  of  E.  iv.  i.  12  we  have,  "Pleaseth  you  walk  with 
me,"  etc. ;  and  in  3  Hen.  Vf.  ii.  6.  104,  "  Warwick  .  .  .  shall  do  and  undo, 
as  him  pleaseth  best." 

145.  Dwell.     Continue,  remain. 

151.  Dealings  teaches  them  suspect.  There  were  three  forms  of  the  plural 
in  early  English — the  Northern  in  es,  the  Middle  in  en,  the  Southern  in  eth. 
The  first  two  are  found  in  Elizabethan  authors.  Sometimes  they  are 
used  for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme  ;  sometimes  for  reasons  that  are  not  evi- 
dent. Teaches,  according  to  Abbott  (Gr.  333),  is  one  of  these  old  plurals. 
On  the  omission  of  the  to  of  the  infinitive,  see  Gr.  349. 

153.  Break  his  day.  See  on  127  above,  and  cf.  Hey  wood's  Fair  Maid 
of  the  Exchange,  ii.  2  : 

"  If  you  do  break  your  day,  assure  yourself 
That  I  will  take  the  forfeit  of  your  bond." 

157.  Muttons,  beefs.  These  Norman-French  words  are  here  used  in 
their  original  sense.  The  plural  beeves  is  still  used  for  the  living  animals, 
and  the  singular  form  beeve  is  occasionally  met  with.  Wb.  quotes  an 
instance  from  Irving. 

159.  If  he  will  take  it,  so.  That  is,  so  be  it,  or  something  of  the  kind. 
So  was  often  thus  used  as  a  particle  of  assent  or  affirmation.  Cf.  I  Hen. 
IV.  v.  4.  144 :  "  If  your  father  will  do  me  any  honour,  so,"  etc. 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 


137 


165.  Fearful  guard  Of  an  unthrifty  knave.  Fearful=to  be  feared  or 
distrusted ;  untrustworthy.  Knave,  which  meant  originally  only  a  boy, 
and  now  means  only  a  rogue,  was  in  current  use  in  S.'s  time  with  either 
signification. 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  I. — The  stage-direction  in  the  first  folio  is :  "  Enter  Morochns 
a  tawnie  Moore  all  in  white,  and  three  or  fonre  followers  accordingly,  with 
Portia,  Nerrissa,  and  their  traine.     Flo.  Cornets." 
\  .     I.  Mislike.     S.  generally  uses  dislike,  but  mislike  in  2  Hen.  VI.  i.  I.  140 

and  A.  and  C.  iii.  13.  147  ;  also  once  as  a  noun,  in  3  Hen.  VI.  iv.  i.  24. 
s         Complexion.     A  quadrisyllable.     See  on  i.  i.  8  above.     Gr.  479. 

6.  Let  us  make  incision,  etc.     Red  blood  was  a  traditionary  sign  of 
courage.     Macbeth  (v.  3.  15)  calls  one  of  his  frightened  soldiers  a  "lily- 
livered  boy,"  and  Falstaff  (2  Hen.  IV.  iv.  3.  113)  speaks  of  the  "liver 
white  and  pale"  as  a  badge  of  cowardice.     Below  (iii.  2.  86)  Bassanio 
talks  of  cowards  who  "have  livers  white  as  milk." 

7.  Reddest.     The  use  of  the  superlative  in  a  comparison  of  two  objects, 
though  condemned  by  most  of  the  modern  grammars,  is  good  old  English. 

8.  Aspect  .  .  .  fear'd.      On  the  accent  of  aspect,  see  on  i.  i.  54  above. 
Fear'' d=.caused  to  fear,  terrified.     Cf.  3  Hen.  VI.  v.  2.  2  :  "  For  Warwick 
was  a  bug  that  fear'd  us  all."     In  T.  of  S.  i.  2.  211  we  have  both  senses 
of  fear  in  close  connection:    "  Petrnchio.  Tush!  tush!  fear  boys  with 
bugs.     Gritmio.  For  he  fears  none." 

10.  Best-regarded.     "  Of  highest  rank  and  estimation  "  (Schmidt). 
12.  To  steal  your  thoughts.     As  a  thief  disguised. 

14.  Nice  direction.  Fastidious  estimation.  Cf.  "  nice  and  coy,"  T.  G. 
of  V.  iii.  i.  82,  etc. 

17.  Scanted.     Limited,  restricted.     Cf.  iii.  2.  l r2  below:  "Scant  this 
excess  ;"  and  v.  I.  141  :  "Scant  this  breathing  courtesy." 

18.  Wit.     In  its  original  sense  of  foresight,  wisdom  (A.  S.  wit,  mind)» 
as  in  the  familiar  expressions,  "at  his  wit's  end,"  "lost  his  wits,"  etc. 
S.  uses  the  word  also  in  its  present  sense. 

20.  Yourself.  The  pronouns  myself,  thyself,  etc.,  were  often  used  in 
S.'s  time  (as  they  still  are  in  poetry)  as  the  subject  of  a  verb.  See  Gr. 
20.  Cf.  Milton,  P.  L.  iv.  75  :  "  Myself  am  hell,"  etc. 

Stood  as  fair.  Would  have  stood.  In  fair  there  is  an  allusion  to  the 
Moor's  complexion. 

25.  The  Sophy.     The  Sufi,  or  Shah  of  Persia.     Cf.  T.  N.  ii.  5.  197  and 
iii.  4.  307.     Bacon  (Essay  43)  speaks  of  "  Ismael,  the  Sophy  of  Persia." 

26.  Sultan  Solyman.     The  most  famous  sultan  of  this  name  was  Soly- 
man  the  Magnificent,  who  reigned  from  1520  to  1566. 

27.  O'er-stare.    This  is  the  reading  of  the  folios  and  H.'s  quarto.    R.'s 
quarto  has  "  outstare." 

31.  Alas  the  while!  This  expression,  like  Woe  the  while!  (jf.  C.  i.  3. 
82),  seems  originally  to  have  meant,  "  Alas  for  the  present  state  of  things !" 
but  it  came  to  be  used  as  indefinitely  as  the  simple  alas! 


I38  NOTES. 

32.  Hercules  cmd  Lichen;.  Lichas  was  the  servant  who  brought  to  Her- 
cules the  poisoned  tunic  from  Dejanira,  according  to  Ovid  (Met.  ix.  155). 

Play  at  dice  Which  is,  etc.  That  is,  in  order  to  decide  which  is,  etc. 
As  Abbott  ( Gr.  382 )  has  said,  "The  Elizabethan  writers  objected  to 
scarcely  any  ellipsis,  provided  the  deficiency  could  be  easily  supplied 
from  the  context." 

35.  Alcides  beaten  by  his  page.  Alcides,  according  to  Diodorus,  was 
the  original  name  of  Hercules,  given  him  on  account  of  his  descent  from 
Alcaeus,  the  son  of  Perseus.  The  early  eds.  all  have  "rage  "  instead  of 
page  ;  corrected  by  Theobald. 

43.  Nor  -will  not.     See  on  i.  2.  23  above. 

44.  7Vie  temple.     The  church,  where  the  oath  was  to  be  taken. 

46.  Blest  or  cursed 'st.  It  is  probable  that  blest  is  to  be  regarded  as  an 
instance  of  the  ellipsis  of  the  superlative  ending,  not  unusual  at  that 
time.  Cf.  M.  for  M.  iv.  6.  13  :  "  The  generous  and  gravest  citizens."  So 
Hey  wood  :  "  Only  the  grave  and  wisest  of  the  land  ;"  and  Ben  Jonson  : 
"  The  soft  and  sweetest  music."  In  iii.  2.  288  we  have  "  The  best-condi- 
tioned and  unwearied  spirit,"  where  the  ellipsis  is  in  the  second  adjective. 

SCENE  II. — The  stage-direction  in  the  early  eds.  is  "  Enter  the  clowiie 
alone." 

8.  Scorn  running  with  thy  heels.     The  play  upon  words  is  obvious, 
though  it  sorely  troubled  Steevens,  who  even  proposed  as  an  emenda- 
tion "  Scorn  running  ;  -withe  (i.  e.  hamper  with  a  withe,  or  osier  band) 
thy  heels."     Cf.  Much  Ado,  iii.  4.  51  :  "I  scorn  that  with  my  heels." 

9.  Via  !    Away  !    (Italian).     Cf.  M.  W.  ii.  2.  159,  L.  L.  L.  v.  I.  156,  etc. 
Here  the  early  eds.  have  "fia;"  corrected  by  Rowe. 

10.  For  the  heavens!    Mason  proposed  to  change  heavens  to  haven, 
because  "it  is  not  likely  that  S.  would  make  the  Devil  conjure  Launcelot 
to  do  anything  for  Heaven"1*  sake ;"  but,  of  course,  as  Boswell  has  sug- 
gested, the  wit  of  the  expression  consists  in  that  very  incongruity. 

14.  Well,  my  conscience  says,  etc.  The  ist  folio  reads  thus  :  "  wel,  my 
conscience  saies  Lancelet  bouge  not,  bouge  sales  the  fiend,  bouge  not 
saies  my  conscience,  conscience  say  I  you  counsaile  well,  fiend  say  I  you 
counsaile  well,  to  be  rul'd  by  my  conscience  I  should  stay  with  the  lew 
my  Maister,  (who  God  blesse  the  marke)  is  a  kinde  of  diuell ;"  etc. 

18.  God  bless  (or  save)  the  mark!  The  origin  and  the  meaning  of  this 
expression  are  alike  obscure.  It  appears  to  be  used  most  frequently  "as 
a  parenthetic  apology  for  some  profane  or  vulgar  word." 

21.  Incarnation.     For  incarnate,  of  course.     R.'s  quarto  has  incarnal. 

29.  Sand-blind.     Dim  of  sight ;  as  if  there  were  sand  in  the  eye,  or 
perhaps  floating  before  it.     It  means  something  more  than  purblind,  for 
Latimer  (Sermons)  says, "  The  Saintis  be  purre-blinde  and  sand-blinde." 
High-gravel-blind is  Launcelot's  own  exaggeration  of  the  word. 

30.  Confusions.    The  reading  of  H.'s  quarto  and  the  folios.     R.'s  quarto 
has   conclusions,  which   K.  adopts;    but,  as  Wr.  suggests,  "Launcelot 
would  not  have  given  a  hard  word  so  correctly." 

34.  Marry.  A  corruption  of  Mary.  It  was  originally  a  mode  of  swear- 
ing by  the  Virgin,  but  its  origin  had  come  to  be  forgotten  in  S.'s  day. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  II.  I39 

37.  God's  sonties.  Corrupted  from  God's  saints,  or  sanctities,  or  sanle 
(health) — it  is  impossible  to  decide  which. 

46.  What  a'  will.  A'1  for  he  is  common  in  the  old  dramatists,  in  the 
mouths  of  peasants  and  illiterate  people. 

50.  Talk  you  of  young  Master  Launcelot?  The  early  eds.  make  this 
imperative,  and  not  interrogative,  and  are  followed  by  K.  and  W. ;  but 
D.  and  the  Camb.  editors  are  probably  right  in  regarding  the  sentence  as 
a  repetition  of  the  preceding  interrogation  (40). 

53.  Father.     Launcelot  twice  calls  Gotibo  father,  but  the  old  man  does 
not  even  suspect  with  whom  he  is  talking,  since,  as  W.  remarks,  the 
peasantry  used  to  call  all  old  people  father  or  mother. 

54.  The  sisters  three.     The  Fates  of  classic  fable. 

76.  Your  child  that  shall  lie.  Here  again  some  of  the  sand-blind  critics 
have  been  mystified  by  Launcelot's  incongruous  talk.  Malone  says, 
"  Launcelot  probably  here  indulges  himself  in  talking  nonsense,"  but  he 
is  not  quite  sure  about  it ;  and  Steevens  suggests  that  he  "  may  mean 
that  he  shall  hereafter  prove  his  claim  to  the  title  of  child  by  his  dutiful 
behaviour,"  etc. 

82.  Lord  worshipped.  Perhaps,  as  some  explain  it  =a  lord  worship- 
ful, referring  to  the  beard  and  the  claim  to  the  title  of  Master.  According 
to  stage  tradition,  Launcelot  kneels  with  his  back  to  the  old  man,  who, 
"being  sand-blind,"  mistakes  the  hair  on  his  head  for  a  beard  (St.). 

84.  Fill-horse.  Fill  for  thill,  or  shaft,  is  a  familiar  word  in  New  Eng- 
land, but  in  old  England  it  is  not  known  except  as  a  provincialism  in 
the  Midland  counties.  We  have  "  i'  the  fills  "  in  T.  and  C.  iii.  2.  48. 

91.  Gree.     The  spelling  of  all  the  early  eds.     Cf.  Wb. 

92.  I  have  set  up  my  rest.     That  is,  I  have  determined.     "A  metaphor 
taken  from  play,  where  the  highest  stake  the  parties  were  disposed  to 
venture  was  called  the  rest."     Nares  restricts  the  term  to  the  old  game 
of  primero,  but  Gifford  (endorsed  by  Dyce)  says  that  it  is  incorrect  to  do 
so.     The  expression  occurs  also  in  A.  W.  ii.  I.  138,  C.  of  E.  iv.  3.  27,  R. 
and  J.  iv.  5.  6,  etc. 

97.  Give  me  your  present.     See  on  i.  3.  75  above. 

99.  As  far  as  God  has  any  ground.  A  characteristic  speech  in  the 
mouth  of  a  Venetian.  The  lower  orders  in  Venice  regard  the  mainland 
with  an  admiration  which  can  hardly  be  understood  by  those  who  have 
been  able,  all  their  days,  to  walk  where  they  would  (K.). 

108.  Gramercy.  A  corruption  of  the  Yr&v\c\\grandmerci,  "great  thanks." 

117.  Cater-cousins.  Commonly  explained  as  =quatre-coitsins,  that  is, 
"  fourth  cousins,"  but  this  is  doubtful.  The  meaning  evidently  is,  that 
they  do  not  seem  much  akin,  or  do  not  agree  very  well. 

121.  A  dish  of  doves.  Mr.  C.  A.  Brown  infers,  from  this  and  other  pas- 
sages in  his  plays,  that  S.  must  have  visited  Italy.  "  Where,"  he  asks, 
"  did  he  obtain  his  numerous  graphic  touches  of  national  manners  ? 
Where  did  he  learn  of  an  old  villager's  coming  into  the  city  with  'a  dish 
of  doves '  as  a  present  to  his  son's  master  ?  A  present  thus  given,  and  in 
our  days  too,  and  of  doves,  is  not  uncommon  in  Italy."  It  is  possible, 
however,  that  the  poet  gained  this  knowledge  of  the  country  from  other 
travellers  ;  and  it  is  well  known  that  Kemp,  a  fellow-actor,  visited  Italy. 


140 


NOTES. 


131.  Preferred '  thee.  To  prefer  often  meant  to  "  recommend  for  promo- 
tion," and  sometimes  to  "promote."  Cf.  Cymb.  ii.  3.  5i,iv.  2.386,400,  etc. 

134.  The  old  proverb.  It  is  said  that  there  is  a  Scotch  proverb,  "  The 
grace  of  God  is  gear  enough." 

140.  Guarded.    Trimmed,  ornamented.    The  broidered  edging  guarded 
(protected)  the  cloth  from  wear.     See  Hen.  VIII.  pro).  16  and  Muck 
Ado,  \.  i.  288.     Cf.  "guards  on  wanton  Cupid's  hose,"Z.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  58. 

141.  In.     Go  in  ;  as  in  C.  of  E.  v.  i.  37,  etc. 

142.  Well,  if  any  man,  etc.  This  is  Johnson's  punctuation,  which  W.  also 
follows.     The  construction  is,  "  Well,  if  any  man  in  Italy  which  cloth  offer 
to  swear  upon  a  book  have  a  fairer  table  " — the  expression  being  like  "  any 
man  that  breathes,"  etc.     After  having  thus  admired  his  table,  he  breaks 
off  to  predict  his  good  fortune.    As  Johnson  remarks,  "  the  act  of  expand- 
ing his  hand"  reminds  him  of  laying  it  on  the  book  in  taking  an  oath. 

In  chiromancy,  or  palmistry  (fortune-telling  by  the  lines  on  the  palm 
of  the  hand),  the  table  line,  or  line  of  fortune,  is  the  one  running  from  the 
fore-finger  below  the  other  fingers  to  the  side  of  the  hand.  The  natural 
line  is  the  one  running  through  the  middle  of  the  palm.  The  line  of  life 
is  the  one  which  encircles  the  ball  of  the  thumb.  The  space  betsveen 
the  two  first  is  called  mensa,  or  the  table. 

145.  Aleven.     A  vulgarism  for  eleven. 

149.  For  this  gear.     See  on  i.  i.  no  above. 

151.  Of  an  eye.     The  words  are  found  only  in  R.'s  quarto. 

153.  Bestow  d.  Put  away,  disposed  of.  Cf.  2  Kings,  v.  24,  Luke,  xii. 
17,  18,  etc.  See  also  C.  of  E.  i.  2.  78,  J.  C.  i.  3.  151,  etc. 

163.  Hear  thee.  In  this,  as  in  some  other  expressions  ("fare  thee  well," 
etc.),  thee  appears  to  be  used  for  tkou,  and  not  reflexively.  Cf.  Gr.  212. 

168.  Liberal.  Free,  reckless  ;  but  not  in  so  bad  a  sense  as  in  Mtich 
Ado,  iv.  i.  93  ("a  liberal  villain"),  where  it  means  licentious.  Cf.  "lib- 
eral shepherds,"  Ham.  iv.  7.  171. 

Take  pain.  We  now  use  only  the  plural,  "take  pains."  S.  uses  both. 
See  below,  v.  I.  180. 

170.  Thy  skipping  spirit.      Thy  frolicsome  humour.      Cf.  Ham.  iii.  4. 
123  :  "  Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy  distemper  Sprinkle  cool  patience." 
Spirit,  as  often,  is  a  monosyllable  —sprite.     Gr.  463. 

171.  Misconstrued.     The  1st  folio  has  misconsterd  here,  but  tniscon- 
strned  in  J.  C.  v.  3.  84. 

176.  While  grace  is  saying.  See  Marsh,  Lect.  on  Ens;.  Lang.  (First 
Series),  pp.  649-658.  In  S.'s  day  the  construction  in  saying  or  a-saying 
was  going  out  of  use,  and  the  verbal  noun  in  -ing  was  beginning  to  be 
regularly  used  in  a  passive  sense.  The  construction,  is  being  said,  etc., 
as  Marsh  remarks,  "  is  an  awkward  neologism,  which  .  .  .  ought  to  be 
discountenanced  as  an  attempt  at  the  artificial  improvement  of  the  lan- 
guage at  a  point  where  it  needed  no  amendment."  The  "ignorance  of 
grammarians  "  has  been  "  a  frequent  cause  of  the  corruption  of  language." 

Hood  mine  eyes.  Hats  were  worn  at  meals,  and  especially  on  ceremonial 
occa?ions — a  custom  probably  derived  from  the  days  of  chivalry.  Even 
now,  at  the  installation  banquet  of  the  Knights  of  the  Garter,  all  the 
Knights  Companions  wear  their  hats  and  plumes  (St.). 


ACT  If.    SCENES  III.,  IV.,  AND    V.  i4I 

179.  Studied  in  a  sad  ostent.  Trained  to  put  on  a  sober  aspect.  Below 
(ii.  8.  44)  we  have  "fair  ostents  (manifestations,  tokens)  of  love  ;"  and  in 
Hen.  V.  v.  chor.  21,  "full  trophy,  signal,  and  ostent"  (display). 

188.  I  must  to  Lorenzo.  This  ellipsis  of  the  verb  was  common,  espe- 
cially after  will ;  as  "  I  '11  to  him,"  A',  and  J.  iii.  2.  141,  etc.  Gr.  405. 

SCENE  III. — 9.  In  talk.     The  quarto  reading;  the  folios  omit  in. 

10.  Exhibit.     For  inhibit  (restrain). 

14.  What  heinous  sin.  Possibly  this  is  one  of  the  instances  in  which 
'what  is  used  for  what  a.  Cf.  J.  C.  i.  3.  42  :  "  What  night  is  this  !"  See 
other  examples  in  Gr.  86  (cf.  256). 

SCENE  IV. — 5.  We  have  not  spoke  us  yet  of.  We  have  not  yet  bespoken. 
The  reading  of  the  4th  folio  (adopted  by  Pope)  is  "as  yet." 

6.  Quaintly.     Tastefully,  gracefully.     Quaint  (from  Latin  comptus,  or, 
according  to  some,  cognitns — or  from  both,  as  \Vb.  makes  it),  in  the  old 
writers,  means  elegant,  and  hence  artful,  ingenious.     In  Johnson's  day  it 
had  come  to  mean  affected,  and  now  it  has  "the  united  sense  of  antique 
and  odd."     Cf.  "  quaint  lies  "  below,  iii.  4.  69  ;     "  fine,  quaint,  graceful," 
Much  Aifo,  iii.  4.  22;  "more  quaint,  more  pleasing,"  T.  of  S.  iv-  3.  102; 
"quaintly  writ,"  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  i.  128  ;  "  quaintly  made,"  Id.  iii.  1. 117, etc. 

7.  Not  undertook.     We  have  "  underta'en  "  in  W.  T.  iii.  2.  79,  and  "  to 
be  undertook  "  in  Oth.  v.  2.  311.     S.  often  uses  two  or  more  forms  of  the 
participle.     Thus  in  J.  C.  we  have  stricken,  struck,  and  strucken  (stroken 
in  folio,  but  strucken  in  C.  of  E.  i.  2.  45,  etc.).     So  we  find  mistook  and 
mistaken,  etc.     We  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  Elizabethan  age  was  a 
transitional  period  in  the  history  of  the  language.     See  Gr.  343,  344. 

10.  Break  up.  Break  open ;  as  in  W.  T.  iii.  2.  132.  Break  up  was  a 
term  in  carving  ;  and  in  /..  L.  L.  iv.  I.  56  we  have  "break  up  this  capon," 
where  the  "  capon  "  is  a  letter.  See  our  ed.  p.  143. 

13.  Writ.  S.  uses  both  -writ  and  wrote  for  the  past  tense,  and  writ, 
written,  and  wrote  for  the  participle. 

23.  Provided  of.  Of  is  often  used  of  the  agent  (where  we  use  by},  and 
of  the  instrument  (for  with),  as  here.  Cf.  Macb.  i.  2.  13  :  "supplied  of 
kernes,"  etc.  Gr.  171.  A  small  number  of  prepositions  serve  to  express 
an  immense  number  of  relations,  and  their  use  in  different  periods  of  the 
language  is  very  variable. 

29.  Needs.     Of  necessity  ;  a  genitive  used  adverbially.     Cf.  Gr.  25. 

Directed  .  .  .  What  gold,  etc.  The  ellipsis  here  is  very  like  what  is 
called  a  zeugma. 

35.  Dare.  Either  the  "subjunctive  used  imperatively"  (Gr.  364),  or 
the  3d  pers.  of  the  imperative. 

37.  Faithless.     Unbelieving;  as  in  Matt.  xvii.  17. 

SCENE  V. — 2.  Difference  of.  Cf.  Lear,  iv.  2.  26  :  "  O,  the  difference  of 
man  and  man  !" 

3.  What,  Jessica!  A  customary  exclamation  of  impatience,  in  calling 
to  persons  (cf.  Temp.  iv.  i.  33,  M.  W.  i.  4.^,  40,  etc.) ;  like  when  (Temp. 
i.  2.  316,  J.  C.  ii.  i.  5,  etc.).  See  Gr.  730. 


142 


NOTES. 


II.  Bid  forth.  Invited  out.  Cf.  "  find  forth,"  i.  1. 143  above,  and  "  reast- 
ing  forth,"  36  below.  S.  uses  bidden  only  in  Muc/i  Ado,  iii.  3.  32.  He 
uses  both  bade  and  bid  for  the  past  tense.  See  on  7  above. 

17.  Towards  my  rest.     Against  my  peace  of  mind. 

18.  To-night.     That  is,  last  night;  as  in  J.  C.  iii.  3.  I  :  "I  dreamt  to- 
night that  I  did  feast  with  Caesar."     Usually  in  S.  it  has  its  modern 
meaning. 

21.  So  Jo  I  his.  Shylock  plays  upon  Launcelot's  blunder  of  reproach 
for  approach. 

24.  Black-Monday.  Easter-Monday ;  so  called,  as  the  old  chronicler 
Stowe  tells  us,  because  "in  the  341!!  of  Edward  III.  (1360),  the  I4th  of 
April,  and  the  morrow  after  Easter-day,  King  Edward  with  his  host  lay 
before  the  city  of  Paris  :  which  day  was  full  dark  of  mist  and  hail,  and  so 
bitter  cold  that  many  men  died  on  their  horses'  backs  with  the  cold." 

29.  The  wry-necked  fife.  It  is  doubtful  whether  wry-necked  refers  to  the 
fife  or  the  fifer.  Boswell  quotes  from  Barnaby  Rich  (1618) :  "  A  fife  is  a 
wry-neckt  musician,  for  he  always  looks  away  from  his  instrument."  On 
the  other  hand,  the  old  English  fife  (like  one  used  in  classical  times)  had 
a  bent  mouth-piece.  It  was  called  the  flute  a  bee,  as  the  mouth-piece 
resembled  the  beak  of  a  bird.  For  squealing  R.'s  quarto  has  "squeak- 
ing." 

35.  Jacobs  staff.     See  Gen.  xxxii.  10  and  Heb.  xi.  21.     In  Spenser,  F. 
Q.  i.  6.  35,  "  lacobs  staffe  "  more  probably  refers  to  St.  James  (Jacobus), 
who  is  usually  represented  with  a  pilgrim's  hat  and  staff. 

36.  Of  feasting  forth.     Of=-for,  as  often.     See  Gr.  174;  and  for  forth, 
Gr.  41. 

42.  Jewess'  eye.  It  is  "  Jewes  "  in  the  quartos  and  1st  and  2d  folios, 
"Jew's"  in  the  later  folios.  Pope  suggested  Jewess',  which  has  been 
generally  adopted.  W.  says  that  Jewess  is  not  so  old  as  the  time  of  S., 
but  Wr.  states  that  it  occurs  in  the  Bible  of  1611  (Acts,  xvi.  i),  and 
even  as  early  as  Wiclif's  version.  Launcelot's  phrase,  as  D.  remarks, 
is  "a  slight  alteration,  for  the  nonce,  of  the  proverbial  expression,  Worth 
a  Jew's  eye."  The  Jews  were  often  threatened  with  the  loss  of  an  eye, 
or  some  other  mutilation,  in  order  to  extort  treasure  from  them. 

45.  Patch.  A  name  given  to  the  professional  jester  (probably  from  his 
patched  or  parti -coloured  coat),  and  afterwards  used  as  a  term  of  con- 
tempt. Some  derive  the  word  from  the  Italian  pazzo  (foolish,  insane). 

51.  Perhaps  f  will  return.  Abbott  (Gr.  319),  who  denies  that  S.  ever  uses 
will  for  shall,  thinks  this  (and  Perchance  I  will}  may  be  "  a  regular  idiom." 
It  may  be  that  the  will=shall  (as  Wr.  makes  it),  but  it  is  quite  as  likely 
that  the  shade  of  meaning  is  such  as  would  now  be  expressed  by  will — 
"  Perhaps  I  may  decide  to  return,"  or  something  of  the  sort.  "  I  shall 
return"  would  be  future  pure  and  simple ;  "  I  will  return  "  adds  the  idea 
that  the  possible  future  act  depends  upon  the  speaker's  will. 

SCENE  VI. — 5.  Venus'  pigeons.  The  chariot  of  Venus  was  drawn  by 
doves.  In  Temp.  iv.  1.94  she  is  described  as  "dove-drawn,"  and  her 
"doves"  are  also  referred  to  in  M.  N.  D.  i.  I.  171,  V.and  A.  1190,  etc. 

7.    Obliged.     Pledged,  plighted. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  VI.  T43 

9.  Sits  down.    That  is,  sits  down  with.    So  in  the  next  sentence,  "  pace 
them  (with)."     This  ellipsis  of  a  preposition  which  has  already  been  ex- 
pressed before  the  relative  is  quite  common  in  S.     Cf.  J.  C.  ii.  2.  331  : 
"  To  whom  it  must  be  done  "  (to) ;  M.for  M.  ii.  2.  119:   "  Most  ignorant 
of  what  he  's  most  assured  "  (of) ;  and  below  (iv.  i.  380) :  "  A  gift  of  all 
(of  which)  he  dies  possess'd."     See  also  on  i.  i.  125  above. 

10,  Untread  again.     Retrace. 

14.'  Younger.  The  reading  of  all  the  early  eds.  Rowe  changed  it  to 
yonnker,  which  S.  uses  in  i  Hen.  IV.  iii.  3.  92  and  3  Hen.  VI.  ii.  i.  24. 

15.  Scarfed.  Decked  with  flags  and  streamers.  In  A.  IV.  ii.  3.  214 
"scarfs"  are  associated  with  "bannerets"  in  the  comparison  of  a  person 
to  a  "  vessel." 

17.  How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return.     The  reading  of  the  quartos, 
which  makes  the  reference  to  the  parable  more  direct  than  the  folio  "a 
prodigal." 

18.  Over  -  weather 'd.     Weather-beaten.     This  is  the  reading  of  both 
quartos.  <   The  folios  have  "over-wither'd." 

30.  Who  love  /,  etc.  The  inflection  of  who  is  often  neglected.  See  ex- 
amples in  Macb.  iii.  J.  123,  iv.  3.  173,  Cor.  ii.  i.  8,  etc.  Directly  after  a 
preposition,  whom  is  usually  found.  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  ii.  I.  2  :  "  Consider  who 
the  king  your  father  sends,  To  whom  he  sends."  But  in  Cymb.  iv.  2.  75 
and  Oth.  i.  2.  52  we  have  the  interrogative  who  even  after  a  preposition  : 
"  To  who  ?"  See  Gr.  274. 

35.  Exchange.     That  is,  of  apparel. 

42.  Too-too  light.     Halliwell  has  urged  that  "too  too"  used  to  be  a 
compound   epithet,  and  should   always   have   the   hyphen  ;   but,  as  W. 
remarks,  it  seems  clear  that  in  some  cases  (as  in  Ham.  i.  2.  129:  "this 
too,  too  solid  flesh")  it  was  an  emphatic  repetition,  just  as  it  is  now. 

43.  An  office  of  discovery,  etc.     The  office  of  a  torch-bearer  is  to  show 
what  is  in  the  way,  but  I  ought  to  keep  in  the  shade. 

47.  Close.     Secret,  stealthy.     Cf.  Rich.  III.  p.  183. 

50.  More.     The  quartos  have  "  mo."     See  on  i.  i.  108  above. 

51  By  my  hood.  This  has  been  explained  as  swearing  by  the  hood  of 
his  masque-dress ;  but  it  is  possible  that  W.  is  right  in  understanding 
"my  hood"  here  and  elsewhere  to  be  "myself,"  that  is,  "my  estate" — 
manhood,  knighthood,  or  whatever  may  be  appropriate  to  the  speaker. 

Gentile.  H.'s  quarto  and  the  1st  folio  have  "gentle."  There  is  evi- 
dently a  play  upon  the  two  words. 

52.  Beshrnv  me.  A  very  mild  imprecation,  often  used  playfully  and 
even  tenderly.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  p.  152. 

54.  If  thai.  This  use  of  that  as  "a  conjunctional  affix"  (Gr.  287)  was 
common.  Thus  we  have  "  when  that  "  (J.  C.  iii.  2.  96), "  why  that  "  (Hen. 
V.  v.  2.  34),  "while  that"  (Id.  v.  2.  46),  "though  that"  (Cor.  i.  i.  144); 
'  since  that  "  (Macb.  iv.  3.  106),  etc.,  etc.  The  fuller  forms,  "  If  so  were 
that "  (Chaucer),  "  If  so  be  that,"  etc.,  suggest  that  all  these  expressions 
may  be  similar  ellipses,  as  Abbott  explains  them. 

67.  Glad  on  V.  S.  often  uses  on  where  we  should  use  of.  Cf.  "jeal- 
ous on  me,"  J.  C.  i.  2.  71,  and  see  Gr.  180,  181,  182.  In  Temp.i.  2, 
on  ^t—of  it  occurs  three  times.  See  also  I  Sam.  xxvii.  n. 


144 


NOTES. 


SCENE  VII. — 4.  Of  gold, who.  In  the  Elizabethan  age,  -which  was  not  yet 
established  as  the  neuter  relative.  It  was  often  applied  to  persons  (as  in 
the  Lord's  Prayer,  "  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven  ")  and  who  to  things. 
In  the  next  line  but  one,  we  have  "  silver,  which."  See  Gr.  264, 265. 

5.  What  many  men  desire.     The  folios  omit  many. 

26.  If  thou  be'st  rated.  This  beest  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
subjunctive  be.  It  is  the  A.  S.  bist,  2d  pers.  sing.  pres.  indicative  oibeon, 
to  be.  See  on  i.  3.  19  above. 

29.  Afeard.     S.  uses  afeard  and  afraid  interchangeably. 

30.  Disabling.     Disparaging.     Disable  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  A. 
K  L.  iv.  i.  34,  v.  4.  80,  and  I  Hen.  VI.  v.  3.  67. 

41.  Hyrcanian.     Hyrcania  was  an  extensive  tract  of  country  southeast 
of  the  Caspian.     S.  three  times  mentions  the  tigers  of  Hyrcania:  3  Hen. 
VI.  i.  4.  155,  Macb.  iii.  4.  101,  and  Ham.  ii.  2.  472.  Cf.  Virgil,  &n.  iv.  367. 

Vasty.  Waste,  desolate,  like  the  Latin  vastus.  S.  uses  -vast  several 
times  as  a  noun  =waste.  See  IV.  T.  i.  I.  33,  Per.  iii.  I.  I,  etc. 

42.  Throughfares.     Thorough  and  through  are  the  same  word,  and  S. 
uses  either,  as  suits  the  measure.      So  with  throughly  and  thoroughly. 
We  find  throughfare  again  in  Cymb.  i.  2.  n  (see  our  ed.  p.  168). 

43.  Come  view.     See  Gr.  349. 
49.  Like.     Likely ;  as  very  often. 

51.  Too  gross,  etc.  Too  coarse  a  material  to  enclose  her  shroud.  Cere- 
cloth. Decrement  (Ham.  i.  4.  48),  cloth  smeared  with  melted  wax  (Lat.  cera) 
or  gums,  for  embalming  the  dead.  Obscure  has  the  accent  on  the  first 
syllable,  because  followed  by  an  accented  syllable.  Cf.  Rich.  //.  iii.  3. 
154:  A  little,  little  grave,  an  obscure  grave;"  Ham.  iv.  5.  213:  "His 
means  of  death,  his  obscure  funeral ;"  etc.  See  also  on  ii.  9.  60  below. 

53.  Undervahied,  etc.  See  on  i.  I.  165  above.  During  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  down  to  the  i6th  century,  the  value  of  silver  was  ^  and  ^, 
and  even,  as  here  stated,  ^  that  of  gold.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  I7th 
century  it  fell  to  as  low  as  fg.  In  the  l8th  it  rose  to  ^  and  is  now 
about  ^g. 

57.  Inscu!p\i  upon.  Graven  on  the  outside.  The  angel  was  worth  about 
ten  shillings.  It  had  on  one  side  a  figure  of  Michael  piercing  the  dragon. 
The  use  of  the  device  is  said  to  have  originated  in  Pope  Gregory's  pun 


GOLDEN  ANGEL  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


ACT  II.    SCENES  VIII.  AND  IX. 


'45 


of  Angli  and  Angeli.  Verstegan,  in  his  Restitution  of  Decayed  Intelligence, 
says:  "The  name  of  Engel  is  yet  at  this  present  in  all  the  Teutonick 
tongues,  to  wit,  the  high  and  low  Dutch,  &c.,  as  much  to  say  as  Angel, 
and  if  a  Dutch-man  be  asked  how  he  would  in  his  language  call  an  Angel- 
like-man,  he  would  answer,  ein  English-man,  Ettgel  being  in  their  tongue 
an  Angel,  and  English,  which  they  write  Engelsche,  Angel-like.  And 
such  reason  and  consideration  may  have  moved  our  former  kings,  upon 
their  best  coin  of  pure  and  fine  gold,  to  set  the  image  of  an  angel."  The 
figure  shows  the  angel  of  Elizabeth. 

63.  A  carrion  death.     That  is,  a  skull. 

65.  Glisters.  Glisten  does  not  occur  in  S.  nor  in  Milton.  In  both  we 
find  glister  several  times.  See  W.  T.  iii.  2.  171,  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  178,  Hen. 
V.  ii.  2.  117,  etc.  ;  Lycidas,  79,  Camus,  219,  P.  L.  iii.  550,  iv.  645,  653,  etc. 

69.   Tombs.     Johnson's  emendation  for  the  "timber  "  of  the  early  eds. 

77.  Part.  Depart.  See  Cor.  v.  6.  73  :  "When  I  parted  hence,"  etc. 
Depart  was  also  used  where  we  should  say  part;  as  in  the  Marriage 
Service  "till  death  us  do  part"  is  a  corruption  of  "till  death  us  depart." 

SCENE  VIII. — 12.  A  passion.  Passionate  outcry.  Cf.  T.andC.v.2. 
181  :  "Your  passion  draws  ears  hither."  See  also  the  verb  in  T.  G.of 
V.  iv.  4.  172,  V.  and  A.  1059,  etc. 

27.  Reasoned.     Talked,  conversed;  as  in  Rich.  III.  ii.  3.  39,  etc.     K. 
quotes  B.  and  F. :  "There  is  no  end  of  women's  reasoning." 

28.  The  narrow  seas.    The  English  Channel — a  name  not  unfrequently 
applied  to  it  in  that  day.     It  occurs  again  iii.  i.  3  below. 

30.  Fraught.  We  now  use  fraught  (—freighted)  only  in  a  figurative 
sense.  Fraught  is  used  as  a  noun  in  T.  N.  v.  i.  64  and  Oth.  iii.  3.  449. 
Freight  does  not  occur  in  S.  or  Milton.  In  Temp.  i.  2.  13,  where  many 
modern  editions  have  "  freighting  souls,"  the  folio  has  "  fraughting." 

39.  Slubber.    To  do  carelessly  or  imperfectly.    It  also  means  to  obscure, 
or  soil ;  as  in  Oth.  i.  3.  227  :  "slubber  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes." 

40.  Riping.     Ripeness,  maturity. 

42.  Mind  of  I  we.  That  is,  loving  mind.  Cf.  "  mind  of  honour,"  M.for 
M.  ii.  4-  i79(W.). 

44.  Ostents.     Manifestations,  displays.     See  on  ii.  2.  179  above. 

45.  Conveniently.     In  its  original  sense,  fitly,  suitably.     Cf.  Prov.  xxx. 
8,  Rom.  i.  28,  Eph.  v.  4.     So  in  the  one  instance  in  which  Milton  uses  the 
word,  S.  A.  1471 :   "some  convenient  ransom." 

47.  Turning  his  face,  etc.     As  Malone  suggests,  we  have  here  "the 
outline  of  a  beautiful  picture." 

48.  Sensible.     Sensitive.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  337  :    "  Love's  feeling  is 
more  soft  and  sensible  Than  are  the  tender  horns  of  cockled  snails." 

52.  Quicken  his  embraced  heaviness.  Enliven  the  melancholy  he  indulges. 
Cf.  iii.  2.  109  below  :  "  rash-embrac'd  despair." 

53.  Do  we  so.     ist  pers.  imperative  ;  a  form  not  uncommon  in  S.     Cf. 
Hen.  V.  iv.  8.  127  :  "  Do  we  all  holy  rites  !"     See  also  v.  1. 36  below. 

SCENE  IX. — 18.  Addressed  me.  Prepared  myself.  Cf.  A.  W.  iii.  6. 103,  etc. 
Fortune  now,  etc.     Success  now  to  the  hope  of  my  heart ! 

K 


146  NOTES. 

25.  By  the  fool  multitude.    For  by,  see  on  i.  2. 46 ;  and  for  the  adjective 
fool,  on  i.  I.  1 02  above. 

26.  Fond.     Foolish  ;  as  usually  in  S.     Cf.  Milton,  S.  A.  812 :  "  fond 
and  reasonless ;"  etc.     Cf.  iii.  3.  9  below. 

27.  The  martlet.     The  house-martin.     Cf.  Macb.  i.  6.  4  :  "  the  temple- 
haunting  martlet."     See  our  ed.  p.  174. 

28.  In  the  weather.    Exposed  to  the  weather.     Cf.  h'.  John,\\.  2.  109: 
"  Pour  down  thy  weather,"  and  Cymb.  iii.  3.  64 :  "  left  me  bare  to  weather." 

31.  "Jump  with.  Agree  with.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  iii.  i.  II :  "outward  show, 
which  .  .  .  seldom  or  never  jumpeth  with  the  heart."  Jump  also  means 
to  risk,  hazard,  as  in  Macb.  i.  7.  7 :  "jump  the  life  to  come."  See  also 
Cor.  iii.  I.  154.  Jump  is  found  as  an  adjective  (^matched,  or  suitable), 
as  "jump  names"  (B.  J.) ;  also  as  an  adverb  (=  just,  exactly),  as  in  Ham. 
i.  i.  65  :  "jump  at  this  dead  hour"  (see  our  ed.  p.  172). 

40.  Estates.  Ranks.  Cf.  Ham.  v.  i.  244 :  "  't  was  of  some  estate  "  (that 
is,  high  rank). 

43.  Should  cover,  etc.  Should  wear  their  hats,  that  now  take  them  off, 
as  to  superiors. 

45.  Peasantry.     The  folios  have  "  pleasantry." 

47.  Ruin.     Refuse,  rubbish. 

60.  To  offend,  etc.  That  is,  an  offender  cannot  be  the  judge  of  his  own 
case.  For  the  accent  of  distinc t,  see  on  ii.  7.  51  above. 

62.  Fire.  As  often,  a  dissyllable.  In  J.  C.  iii.  i.  171  we  have  it  both 
as  a  monosyllable  and  as  a  dissyllable :  "As  fire  drives  out  fire,  so  pity 
pity."  Hours  is  a  dissyllable  four  times  in  as  many  lines  in  3  Hen.  VI.  ii. 
5. 31-34,  and  a  monosyllable  four  lines  below.  Gr.  480.  Cf.  iii.  2. 20  below. 

67.  /  wis.  This,  as  Craik  has  shown,  is  a  corruption  of  the  adverbial 
ywis  (certainly),  but  S.  no  doubt  regarded  it  as  a  pronoun  and  verb. 

71.  You  are  sped.  Your  fate  is  settled.  Cf.  "you  two  are  sped,"  T. 
of  S.  v.  2.  185,  and  "  I  am  sped,"  R.  and  J.  iii.  i.  94.  See  also  Lycidas, 
122 :  "  What  need  they  ?  They  are  sped." 

77.  Wroth.  The  old  eds.  have  "wroath."  Schmidt  makes  it  —ruth 
(sorrow) ;  but  some  take  it  to  be  another  form  of  -wrath,  used  in  the 
sense  of  "torturing  anger." 

84.  My  lord.  Probably  used  jestingly  in  response  to  the  my  lady.  So 
in  i  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  317  the  prince  says,  "How  now,  my  lady  the  host- 
ess ?"  in  reply  to  her  "  My  lord  the  Prince  !"  In  Rich.  II.  v.  5.  67,  also, 
a  groom  addresses  the  king,  "  Hail,  royal  prince  !"  and  Richard  replies, 
"  Thanks,  noble  peer  !"  See  our  ed.  p.  219. 

88.  Sensible  regreets.     Tangible  greetings,  substantial  salutations.     Re- 
greet  strictly  means  a  responsive  greeting.     The  noun  occurs  again  in  K. 
John,  iii.  I.  241.     For  the  verb,  see  Rich.  II.  p.  162. 

89.  Commends.     Cf.  Rich.  II.  iii.  I.  38 :  "I  send  to  her  my  kind  com- 
mends ;"  and  Id.  iii.  3.  126:   "Speak  to  his  gentle  hearing  kind  com- 
mends."    See  also  Per.  ii.  2.  49. 

90.  Yet  I  have  not.    I  have  not  yet.     F^/=up  to  this  time,  is  now  used 
only  after  a  negative,  but  in  the  Elizabethan  age  it  was  often  used,  as 
here,  before  a  negative.     Cf.  T.  of  S.  ind.  I.  96:    "For  yet  his  honour 
never  heard  a  play  ;"  and  this  from  Ascham's  Scholemaster :  "  There  be 


ACT  III.    SCENE  I. 


147 


that  kepe  them  out  of  fier  and  yet  was  never  burned  " — which  would  be 
nonsense  nowadays.  Gr.  76. 

91.  Likely.  In  the  Yankee  sense  of  promising.  Cf.  2  Hen.  IV.  iii.  2. 
186 :  "  a  likely  fellow  !"  and  Id.  iii.  2.  273  :  "  your  likeliest  men." 

97.  fligh-day  wit.  "  Holiday  terms,"  as  Hotspur  expresses  it  (i  Hen. 
IV.  \.  3.  46).  Cf.  M.  W.  iii.  2.  69 :  "  he  speaks  holiday." 

99.  Cu-bid's post.  So  below  (v.  i.  46)  we  have  "there  's  a  post  come 
from  my  master."  For  the  adverbial  mannerly,  cf.  Cymb.  iii.  6.  92,  etc. 

ice.  BassaniO)  lord  Love.     May  it  be  Bassanio,  O  Cupid  ! 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  T. — 2.  It  lives  there  unchecked.  The  report  prevails  there  un- 
contradicted. 

3.    Wracked.     The  only  spelling  in  the  early  eels.     See  Rich.  II.  p.  177. 

The  Goodwins.  The  Goodwin  Sands,  off  the  eastern  coast  of  Kent. 
According  to  tradition,  they  were  once  an  island  belonging  to  Earl  God- 
win, which  was  swallowed  up  by  the  sea  about  A.D.  noo. 


THE   GOODWIN    SANDS,  DURING   A   STORM. 

9.  Knapped.  Snapped,  broke  up.  The  word  occurs  in  Ps.  xlvi.  a 
(Prayer-Book  version):  "He  knappeth  the  spear  in  sunder."  Gir.eer 
was  a  favourite  condiment  with  old  people. 

24.  The  wings,  etc.     The  boy's  clothes  she  wore  when  she  eloped 
33.  Match.  Bargain,  compact.  Cf.  Cymb.m.6.  30:  "'tis  our  match,"  etc. 


148  NOTES. 

35.  Smug.     Spruce,  trim.     Cf.  Lear,  iv.  6.  202  :  "a  smug  bridegroom." 

43.  Half  a  million.     That  is,  ducats. 

57.  It  shall  go  hard,  etc.     I  will  spare  no  effort  to  outdo  you  in  what 
you  teach  me. 

63.  Matched.     That  is,  matched  with  them,  found  to  match  them. 

74.   Why,  so.     Well,  well.     Cf.  Rich.  II.  ii.  2.  87,  etc. 

100.  My  turquoise.  The  folio  reads,  "my  Turkies."  Marvellous  prop- 
erties were  ascribed  to  this  "  Turkey-stone."  Its  colour  was  said  to 
change  with  the  health  of  the  wearer.  Cf.  Ben  Jonson,  Sejanus: 

"  And  true  as  Turkise  in  the  deare  lord's  ring, 
Looke  well  or  ill  with  him." 

And  Fenton  (Secret  Wonders  of  Nature,  1569)  says:  "The  Turkeys  doth 
move  when  there  is  any  perill  prepared  to  him  that  weareth  it." 

SCENE  II. — 6.  Hate  counsels  not,  etc.  Hatred  would  prompt  no  such 
feeling. 

14.  Beshrew.     See  on  ii.  6.  52  above. 

15.  Overlook 'd.     Bewitched  by  the   "evil    eye."     Cf.  Af.  W.  v.  5.  87: 
"thou  wast  o'erlook'd  even  in  thy  birth." 

20.  Though  yours,  not  yours.  One  yours  (probably  the  second)  must 
be  a  dissyllable.  See  on  ii.  9.  62  above. 

Prove  it  so,  etc.  If  it  prove  so  (that  is,  that  I  am  "not  yours"),  let 
fortune,  not  me,  bear  the  penalty. 

22.  Peize.  The  French  peser,  to  weigh.  Here  it  means  to  delay,  as  if 
weighing  each  moment  deliberately,  or  (as  Steevens  and  others  explain 
the  figure)  as  if  the  time  were  retarded  by  hanging  weights  to  it.  S.  uses 
the  word  in  the  sense  of  weigh  in  Rich.  II.  v.  3.  105,  and  in  that  of  poise 
in  K.  John,  ii.  I.  575.  Peize  is  intelligible  enough  here,  but  Rowe  sub- 
stituted "piece,"  and  the  Coll.  MS.  has  "pause." 

26.  Then  confess.     Alluding  to  the  use  of  the  rack  to  extort  confession. 

44.  A  swan-like  end.     Cf.  Oth.  v.  2.  247:  "I  will  play  the  swan,  And 
die   in   music;"    and  K.  John,  v.  7.  21  :    "this  pale,  faint  swan,  Who 
chants  a  doleful  hymn  to  his  own  death." 

54.  Presence.     Dignity  of  mien. 

55.  Alcides.     Laomedon,  king  of  Troy,  had  offended  Neptune,  who 
threatened  to  inundate  the  country  unless  the  monarch  should  sacrifice 
his  daughter  Hesione.     Accordingly,  she  was  fastened  to  a  rock  on  the 
seashore  to  become  the  prey  of  a  sea-monster.     Hercules  rescued  her, 
not  for  "  love,"  but  to  get  possession  of  a  pair  of  famous  horses  belong- 
ing to  the  king.     The  story  is  told  by  Ovid,  Met.  xi. 

58.  Dardanian  wives.     Trojan  women.     Cf.  Hen.  V.  iii.  3.  40,  etc. 
01.  Live  thou,  I  live.     The  1st  folio  gives  the  passage  thus: 

"  Liue  thou,  I  Hue  with  much  more  dismay 
I  view  the  sight,  then  thou  that  mak'st  the  fray." 

H.'s  quarto  and  the  2d  folio  have  "  much  much  more  dismay." 

63.  Fancy.  Love  ;  as  often.  Cf.  M.  N.  D.  i.  I.  155  :  "sighs  and  tears, 
poor  fancy's  followers."  So  also  in  compounds,  as  "fancy-free"  (M.  N. 
D.  ii.  I.  164),  "fancy-sick"  (Id.  iii.  2.  96),  etc.  The  Song  describes  in 


ACT  /If.    SCENE  II. 


149 


exquisite  imagery  the  birth  and  the  death  of  a  transient  affection,  "engen- 
dered in  the  eye,"  not  in  the  heart. 

74.  Still.     Ever.     See  on  i.  i.  17  above. 

76.  Seasoned.     This  carries  on  the  metaphor  suggested  by  tainted. 

79.  Approve.     Justify,  prove.     Cf.  Macb.  p.  174. 

Si.  No  vice  so  simple.  So  unmixed.  The  quartos  and  1st  folio  have 
"  voice  ;"  corrected  in  2d  folio. 

82.  His  oufrvard  parts.     On  his  for  its,  see  Gr.  228. 

84.  Stairs.  The  folio  has  "stayers,"  which  K.  prints,  explaining  it  as 
=  barriers  or  bulwarks. 

86.  Livers  white  as  milk.     See  on  ii.  i.  6  above. 

87.  Excrement.     Used,  as  the  related  word  excrescence  still  is,  for  a 
superficial  growth.     It  refers  here  to  the  beards ;    as  in  L.  L.  L.  v.  i. 
109  :   "  dally  with  my  excrement,  with  my  mustachio."     It  is  also  ap- 
plied to  the  hair  in  C.  of  E.  ii.  2.  79  and  W.  T.  iv.  4.  734. 

91.  Lightest.     That  is,  in  a  bad  sense.     Cf.  below  (v.  i.  129),  "Let  me 
give  light,  but  let  me  not  be  light,"  etc.     See  C.  of  E.  p.  128  (on  52). 

92.  Crisped.     Curled.     Milton  (Com.  984)  speaks  of  "crisped  shades 
and  bowers,"  referring  to  the  leaves  waved  and  curled  by  the  wind. 

94  Upon  supposed  fairness.  On  the  strength  of  their  fictitious  beauty. 
The  expression  seems  to  us  to  be  closely  connected  with  the  preceding 
line,  and  not  with  the  one  before  that.  Wr.  explains  upon  as  ="  sur- 
mounting." 

95.  The  dowry,  etc.  S.  has  several  times  expressed  his  antipathy  to 
false  hair.  In  Sonn.  68  there  is  a  passage  very  similar  to  the  one  in  the 
text.  See  also  71  of  A.  iv.  3.  144:  "Thatch  your  poor  thin  roofs  With 
burdens  of  the  dead."  In  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  258  Biron  says : 

"  O,  if  in  black  my  lady's  brows  be  deck'd. 
It  mourns  that  painting   and  usurping  hair 
Should  ravish  doters  with  a  false  aspect." 

It  was  then  comparatively  a  recent  fashion.  Stow  says :  "  Women's  peri- 
wigs were  first  brought  into  England  about  the  time  of  the  massacre  of 
Paris"  (1572).  Barnaby  Rich,  in  1615,  says  of  the  periwig-sellers: 
"These  attire-makers  within  these  forty  years  were  not  known  by  that 
name.  .  .  .  But  now  they  are  not  ashamed  to  set  them  forth  upon  their 
stalls  —  such  monstrous  mop-poles  of  hair  —  so  proportioned  and  de- 
formed that  but  within  these  twenty  or  thirty  years  would  have  drawn 
the  passers-by  to  stand  and  gaze,  and  to  wonder  at  them." 

97.  Guiled.  Full  of  guile,  treacherous.  See  Gr.  294  for  many  similar 
participial  adjectives  derived  from  nouns,  and  meaning  "endowed  with 
(the  noun)."  Cf.  beguiled  in  R.  of  L.  1544,  etc. 

99.  An  Indian  beauty.  This  has  been  a  great  stumbling-block  to  the 
critics,  who  have  proposed  "dowdy,"  "gipsy,"  "favour"  (  =  face),  "vis- 
age," "feature,"  "beldam,"  etc.,  in  place  of  beauty.  Theo.  wished  to 
punctuate  thus  :  "  Veiling  an  Indian  ;  beauty,  in  a  word,"  etc.  As  W. 
remarks,  "  Indian  is  used  in  a  derogatory  sense ;  and  the  occurrence  of 
beauteous  and  beauty  in  the  same  sentence  is  not  at  all  unlike  Shakespeare's 
manner." 

102.  Hard  food  for  Midas.     An  allusion  to  the  story  of  Midas,  king  of 


I5o  NOTES. 

Phrygia,  who  gained  from  Bacchus  the  power  to  change  whatever  he 
touched  to  gold,  and  found  to  his  sorrow  that  even  his  food  was  thus 
transmuted.  See  Ovid,  Met.  xi. 

I  will  none  of  thee.     See  on  ii.  2.  188  above. 

106.  Thy  plainness.  The  folio  and  both  quartos  have  "  palenesse." 
Warb.  suggested  the  emendation,  which  is  adopted  by  St.,  D.,  and  W. 
K.,  H.,  Sr.,  and  the  Camb.  ed.  follow  the  folio.  The  antithesis  of  plain- 
ness and  eloquence  is  more  natural  and  more  forcible,  especially  after  that 
of  threatenest  and  promise  in  the  preceding  line.  It  is  an  objection  to 
paleness  that/rt/^  has  just  been  applied  to  the  silver  casket. 

no.  Green-eyed  jealousy.  Cf.  "green-eyed  monster,"  in  Oth.  iii.  3.  166. 
On  green  as  a  complimentary  epithet  of  eyes,  see  A",  and  J.  p.  198. 

112.  Rain  thy  joy.     The  later  quartos  have  rein,  which  some  prefer. 

115.  Counterfeit.  Portrait.  Cf.  T.  of  A.  v.  1.83:  "Thou  draw'st  a 
counterfeit  Best  in  all  Athens."  So  in  the  Wit  of  a  Woman  (1604): 
"the  drawing  of  my  daughter's  counterfeit." 

120.  Hairs.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  142  :  "  her  hairs  were  gold,"  etc. 

126.  Unfurnished.  Unaccompanied  by  the  other  eye,  or,  perhaps,  by 
the  other  features. 

130.  Continent.  In  its  original  sense  of  that  which  contains.  Cf.  Ham. 
iv.  4.  64  :  "  tomb  enough  and  continent ;"  and  v.  2.  1 15  :  "  you  shall  find 
in  him  the  continent  of  what  part  a  gentleman  would  see  "  (that  is,  find 
him  containing  every  quality  which  a  gentleman  would  desire  to  contem- 
plate for  imitation).  In  2  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  309  ("  thou  globe  of  sinful  conti- 
nents "),  some  make  it  —that  which  is  contained  (contents) ;  but  see  our 
ed.  p.  172. 

140.  /  come  by  note,  etc.     "  I  come  according  to  written  warrant  (the 
scroll  just  read)  to  give  a  kiss  and  receive  the  lady"  (Wr.). 

141.  Prize.     By  metonymy,  for  the  contest. 
145.  Peals.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  pearles." 

156.  Livings.  Possessions,  fortune.  Cf.  v.  I.  260:  "you  have  given 
me  life  and  living."  So  in  A',  and  J.  iv.  5.  40  :  "  life,  living,  all  is  death's." 
bee  also  Mark,  xii.  44,  Luke,  viii.  43,  xv.  12,  30,  etc. 

158.  Sum  of  nothing.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio,  and  is  more  in 
keeping  with  the  negative  characteristics  which  follow  than  "  sum  of 
something,"  the  reading  of  the  quartos.  K.  and  W.  adopt  the  former ; 
the  Camb.  editors  and  H.  the  latter. 

163.  Happiest  of  all  in.  The  folio  and  both  quartos  have  "  of  all  is," 
which  is  retained  by  the  Camb.  editors  ;  but  we  agree  with  W.  that 
"  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  "  that  S.  wrote  in. 

174.  Be  my  vantage,  etc.  Be  a  sufficient  ground  for  my  crying  out  against 
you.  "Exclaim  on"  occurs  also  in  V.  and  A.  930,  R.  of  L.  741,  i  Hen. 
VI.  iii.  3.  60,  v.  3.  134,  etc. ;  but  in  Ham.  ii.  2.  367,  Oth.  ii.  3.  314,  etc.,  we 
find  "exclaim  against." 

178.  Fairly  spoke.  S.  uses  both  spoke  and  spoken  as  participles.  See 
on  ii.  4.  7  above. 

191.  None  from  me.  That  is,  none  away  from  me,  since  you  have 
enough  yourselves.  Cf.  Rich.  III.  p.  233  (note  on  259),  or  Gr.  158. 

195.  So  than  canst  get.     If  thou  canst.     See  Gr.  133. 


ACT  III.    SCENE  II.  15! 

197.  As  swift.  The  Elizabethan  writers  use  adjectives  freely  as  ad- 
verbs. Cf.  T.  ofS.  ind.  I.  89:  "Thou  didst  it  excellent,"  etc.  Gr.  i. 

199.  Intermission.     Pause,  delay.     The  pointing  is  Theobald's.     The 
folio  reads  (as  do  the  other  early  eds.  substantially) : 
"You  lou'd,  I  lou'd  for  intermission, 
No  more  pertaines  to  me  my  Lord  then  you." 

Intermission  is  metrically  five  syllables.     See  on  i.  I.  8  above. 

2OI.  Caskets.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  casket." 

208.  Achieved  her  mistress.  S.  often  uses  achieve  in  this  sense.  Cf.  T. 
of  S.  i.  i.  161 :  "  If  I  achieve  not  this  young  modest  girl"  (see  184  and 
224  in  same  scene) ;  Oth.  ii.  i.  61 :  "  achiev'd  a  maid  ;"  etc. 

212.  Our  feast  shall  be.     Shall— 'Mill,  as  often.     See  on  i.  i.  116  above. 

216.  If  that.     See  on  ii.  6.  55  above. 

218.  Very  friends.  True  friends.  Cf.  R.  and  J.  iii.  I.  115  :  "  My  very 
friend."  See  also  Gen.  xxvii.  21,  John,  vii.  26.  Very  is  the  Fr.  vrai  (old 
Fr.  verai},  from  Lat.  veracus,  a  derivative  Qiverus. 

228.  Doth.  Dost  and  doth  are  the  established  forms  for  the  auxiliary  ; 
doest  and  doeth,  in  other  cases.  In  old  writers  we  find  the  former  used 
for  the  latter,  as  here.  Cf.  J.  C.  \.  I.  8 :  "  What  dost  thou  with  thy  best 
apparel  on  ?" 

231.  Estate.  State,  condition.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  i.  2. 17,  A.  IV.  ii.  1. 122,  etc. ; 
also  Gen.  xliii.  7,  Ps.  cxxxvi.  23,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  state  is  some- 
times found  in  the  sense  of  estate.  See  254  below. 

235.  Success.     Elsewhere  S.  often  uses  this  word  in  its  old  sense  of 
issue,  result.     Cf.  A.  W.  v.  I.  62,  Oth.  iii.  3.  122,  Cor.  i.  I.  264,  etc. 

236.  Won  the  fleece.     Cf.  i.  I.  170  above. 

238.  Shrewd.    Evil ;  the  original  sense  of  the  word.     See  J.  C.  p.  145. 

239.  Steals.     Changed  by  Pope  to  "steal."     See  Gr.  247. 

242.  Constant.  Steadfast,  self-possessed.  Cf.  Temp.  i.  2.  207 :  "  Who 
was  so  firm,  so  constant,"  etc. 

257.  Mere.     Absolute,  thorough.     See  Temp.  p.  in,  note  on  51. 

262.  Have.  All  the  early  eds.  read  "  Hath,"  which  might  be  retained. 
See  Gr.  334. 

Hit.     Hit  the  mark,  succeeded. 

265.  Scape.     Not  to  be  printed  '"scape."     See  Macb.  p.  214. 

267.  Should  appear.     Would  appear.     See  Gr.  322. 

268.  Discharge.    Pay.    Cf.  C.  of  E.  iv.  4.  122  :  "I  will  discharge  thee." 
271.  Confound.     Destroy,  ruin.     Cf.  A.  and  C.  iii.  2.  57  :  "What  wil- 
lingly he  did  confound,"  etc. 

273.  Impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state.    Denies  that  strangers  have  equal 
rights  in  Venice  (Wr.).     Cf.,  however,  iv.  i.  38,  where  Shylock  says : 
"  If  you  deny  me,  let  the  danger  light 
Upon  your  charter  and  your  city's  freedom;" 

as  if  the  freedom  depended  upon  a  charter  which  might  be  revoked  by 
the  power  that  had  granted  it.     The  thought  here  may  be  the  same. 

275.  Magnificoes  of  greatest  port.     Grandees  of  highest  rank. 

276.  Persuaded  with.     Used  persuasion  with.     It  is  the  only  instance 
in  which  S.  joins  with  to  this  verb. 

277.  Envious.    Malicious.    So  envy— malice,  in  iv.  i.  10,  121  below. 


152  NOTES. 

284.  Deny.     Forbid.     Elsewhere  it  means  refuse  ;  as  in  ii.  2.  161,  etc. 

288.  Best-condition\l  and  unwearied.  See  on  ii.  I.  46  above.  In  like 
manner,  the  ending  -ly  is  sometimes  omitted  in  the  second  of  a  pair  of 
adverbs.  See  Rich.  II.  i.  3.  3  :  "sprightfully  and  bold  ;"  Rich.  III.  iii.4. 
50:  "cheerfully  and  smooth;"  Oth.  iii.  4.  79 :  "startingly  and  rash," 
etc.  More  rarely,  it  is  omitted  in  the  first  word  ;  as  in  B.  and  F.,  Pilgrim, 
ii.  2  :  "poor  and  basely."  For  conditioned,  see  on  i.  2.  112  above. 

296.  Description.     A  quadrisyllable.     See  on  199  above. 

297.  Hair.     Probably  a  dissyllable,  as  Malone  and  others  make  it ; 
but  it  is  barely  possible  that  through  should  be  thorough,  as  Coll.  suggests. 
See  on  ii.  7.  42  and  ii.  9.  62  above. 

307.  Cheer.  In  its  original  meaning  of  countenance.  Cf.  M,  N.  D.  iii. 
2.  96  :  "  pale  of  cheer,"  etc.  It  is  the  French  chere,  which  even  up  to  the 
i6th  century  was  used  in  the  sense  of  head,  face.  Nicot's  "  la  chere  bais- 
see  "  is  exactly  equivalent  to  Milton's  "drooping  cheer  "  (P.  L.  vi.  496). 
In  some  of  the  provincial  dialects  of  France  the  word  still  retains  its  old 
meaning. 

312.  Is  forfeit.     Is  forfeited.     So  below,  iv.  I.  356  :  "thy  wealth  being 
forfeit."     See  Gr.  342. 

313.  You  and  I.     Cf.  "who  you  shall  rightly  love,"  i.  2.  28,  and  "not 
I"  for  "not  me,"  in  21  above.     See  also  Oth.  iv.  2.  3  :  "you  have  seen 
Cassio  and  she  together."     This  disregard  of  the  inflections  of  pronouns 
was  common  in  writers  of  the  time.     See  Gr.  205-216. 

320.  Nor  rest.     R's  quarto  has  "  no  rest,"  which  may  be  right. 

SCENE  III. — 2.  Lends.     The  folio  reading;  "lent"  in  the  quartos. 

9.  Naughty.     This  word  was  formerly  used  in  a  much  stronger  sense 
than  at  present.     In  Much  Ado,  v.  I.  306  the  villain  Borachio  is  called  a 
"naughty  man;"  and  Gloster,  in  Lear,  iii.  7.  37,  when  the  cruel  Regan 
plucks  his  beard,  addresses  her  as  "Naughty  lady!"     Cf.  Prov.  vi.  12, 
i  Sam.  xvii.  28,  James,  i.  21.     See  also  v.  i.  91  below. 

Fond.  Foolish ;  as  in  ii.  9.  26  above.  This  appears  to  be  the  orig- 
inal sense  of  the  word.  In  Wiclif's  Bible,  i  Cor.  i.  27,  we  find  "the 
thingis  that  \>&\\  fonnyd  oi  the  world." 

10.  To  come.     That  is,  as  to  come.     See  Gr.  281. 

14.  Dull-eyed.  Wanting  in  perception  (as  explained  by  Wr.),  not  with 
eyes  dimmed  with  tears,  as  some  make  it. 

19.  Kept.     Kept  company,  dwelt.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  i.  100,  etc. 
23.  Made  moan.     See  on  i.  I.  126  above. 

25.  Grant  this  forfeiture  to  hold.     Allow  it  to  hold  good. 

26.  Deny  the  course  of  law.     Interfere  with  it,  refuse  to  let  it  take  its 
course.     See  on  iii.  2. 284  above. 

27.  For  the  commodity,  etc.     For  if  the  advantages  heretofore  enjoyed 
by  strangers  in  Venice  be  refused  them,  it  will  seriously  impeach  the  jus- 
tice of  the  state.     Capell  (whom  K.  follows)  read  and  pointed  thus  : 

"The  duke  cannot  deny  the  course  of  law 
For  (that  is,  on  account  of)  the  commodity  that  strangers  have 
With  us  in  Venice :  if  it  be  denied, 
'T  will  much  impeach,"  etc. 


ACT  III.    SCENE  IV.  ^ 

Commodity  there  means  "  traffic,  commercial  intercourse."  But,  as  W 
suggests,  the  ordinary  reading  is  more  in  Shakespeare's  free  style  than 
such  a  precise  passage  as  Capell  makes  of  it.  R.'s  quarto  has  "his 
state." — Thomas,  in  his  History  of  ftalye  (1561),  has  a  chapter  on  "The 
libertee  of  straungers  "  in  Venice,  in  which  he  says  :  "  Al  men,  specially 
strangers,  haue  so  muche  libertee  there,  that  though  they  speake  very  ill 
by  the  Venetians,  so  they  attempt  nothinge  in  effect  against  theyr  astate, 
no  man  shall  control  theim  for  it.  ...  And  generally  of  all  other  thynges, 
so  thou  offende  no  man  priuately,  no  man  shal  offende  the  :  whyche 
vndoubtedly  is  one  principall  cause,  that  draweth  so  many  straungers 
thither"  (VVr.).  See  on  i.  i.  178  above. 

32.  Bated.    Reduced,  lowered.    Cf.  "bated  breath,''  i.  3.  114  above.    It 
should  not  be  printed  Abated  (as  by  K.,  W.,  H.,  and  others),  since  it  is 
not  a  mere  metrical  contraction  of  abated,  but  a  distinct  word  (cf.  wake 
and  awake,  etc.)  often  found  in  prose  writers.     See  examples  in  Wb. 
The  folio  has  "  bated  "  both  here  and  in  i.  3.  1 14. 

35.  Pray  God.  The  subject  is  omitted,  as  ever  now  it  often  is  in 
"  Would  to  God,"  etc. 

SCENE  IV. — 2.  Conceit.     Conception.     See  Much  Ado,  p.  133. 

6.  Send  relief.  For  the  omission  of  the  preposition,  see  on  i.  i.  125  above. 

7.  Lover.     Friend.    So  just  below,  "  bosom  lover."    Cf.  J.  C.  iii.  2.  13  : 
"  Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers."    See  also  Ps.  xxxviii.  1 1.    The  word, 
moreover,  was  formerly  applied  to  both  sexes,  as  pa-rumour  and  villain 
were.     Even  now  we  say  of  a  man  and  woman  that  they  are  lovers,  or  a 
pair  of  lovers. 

9.  Than  customary  bounty,  etc.  "  Than  ordinary  benevolence  can  con- 
strain you  to  be"  (Wr.). 

1 1.  Nor  shall  not.     See  on  i.  2.  23  above. 

Companions.  This  word  was  sometimes  used  contemptuously,  AS  fel- 
low still  is.  See  J.  C.  iv.  3.  138 :  "  Companion,  hence  !"  and  cf.  Temp. 
p.  131,  note  on  Your  fellow. 

12.  Waste.     Spend.     Cf.  Milton  (Sonnet  to  Mr.  Lawrence):  "Help 
waste  a  sullen  day  ;"  where,  however,  the  idea  of  "  killing  time  "  is  more 
evident  than  here. 

14.  Be  needs.  Just  below  we  have  the  more  familiar  needs  be.  For 
needs,  see  on  ii.  4.  29  above. 

21.  Cruelty.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  misery." 

25.  Husbandry.  Stewardship.  Cf.  T.  of  A.  ii.  2. 164:  "  If  you  suspect 
my  husbandry,"  etc. 

Manage.  Cf.  Temp.  i.  2.  70  :  "The  manage  of  my  state."  The  word 
is  especially  used  of  horses  ;  as  in  I  Hen.  IV.  ii.  3.  52  :  "  Speak  terms  of 
manage  to  thy  bounding  steed."  See  also  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  179,  A.  Y.  L.  i. 
i.  13,  etc. 

28.  Contemplation.     Metrically  five  syllables.     Gr.  479. 

30.  Her  husband,  etc.     An  ellipsis  like  that  in  ii.  1.46  above.    Gr.  397. 

33.  Deny  this  imposition.     Refuse  this  charge  laid  upon  you.     See  on 
i.  2.  90  above. 

49.  Padua.    The  old  eds.  have  Mantua.    The  triple  mention  of  Padua 


154  NOTES. 

as  the  residence  of  Bellario  in  iv.  i,  makes  the  correction  here  an  obvious 
one  ;  besides,  the  University  of  Padua  was  famed  for  its  jurists  (Theo.). 
50.  Cousin's  hand.  The  word  cousin  in  that  day  "  seems  to  have  been 
used  instead  of  our  kinsman  and  kinswoman,  and  to  have  supplied  the 
place  of  both  "  (Malone).  Cf.  Ham.  p.  179. 

52.  With  imagined  speed.     With  the  speed  of  thought.     Cf.  Hen.  V. 
iii.  chor.  I :  "  Thus  with  imagin'd  wing  our  swift  scene  flies." 

53.  Tranect.     The  word  occurs  nowhere  else.     It  may  be  a  misprint 
for  "traject"  (Rowe),  the  English  equivalent  of  the  French  trajet,  Italian 
traghetto.     Coryat  (Crudities,  1611)  says  :  "There  are  in  Venice  thirteen 
ferries  or  passages,  which  they  commonly  call  Traghetti,  where  passen- 
gers may  be  transported  in  a  gondola  to  what  place  of  the  city  they 
will."     K.  thinks  the  tranect  was  the  tow-boat  of  the  ferry. 

56.  Convenient.     Proper,  suitable.     See  on  ii.  8.  45  above. 

59.  Of  us.     That  is,  of  our  seeing  them. 

61.  Accomplished.  Furnished.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  ii.  I.  177  :  "  Accomplish'd 
with  the  number  of  thy  hours  ;"  that  is,  when  he  was  of  thy  age.  See  also 
Hen.  V.  iv.  chor.  12  :  "  The  armourers  accomplishing  (that  is,  equipping) 
the  knights." 

63.  Accoutred.     R.'s  quarto  has  "apparreld." 

65.  Braver.  Finer,  more  showy.  Both  brave  and  bravery  are  often 
used  in  this  sense  with  reference  to  dress,  personal  appearance,  etc.  See 
Temp.  i.  2.  6,411,  ii.  2. 122,  iii.  2.  12,  etc.  Cf.  also  Bacon,  Essay  37  :  "the 
bravery  of  their  liveries;"  and  Isa.  iii.  18.  The  Scottish  braw  is  the 
same  word. 

67.  Mincing.  This  word  was  not  always  contemptuous.  In  the  one 
instance  in  which  Milton  uses  it  (Comns,  964  :  "  the  mincing  Dryades  ") 
it  appears  to  mean  tripping  lightly  or  gracefully.  Cf.  also  Drayton,  Pol- 
yolb.  Song  27  :  "  Ye  maids,  the  hornpipe  then  so  mincingly  that  tread." 

69.  Quaint.     Ingenious,  elaborate.     See  on  ii.  4.  6  above. 

72.  /  conld  not  do  withal.  I  could  not  help  it.  In  Palgrave's  Lesclair- 
cissement  de  la  Lang.  Fr.,  1530,  we  find  it  thus  explained  :  "  /  can  nat  do 
withall,  a  thyng  lyeth  nat  in  me,  or  I  am  nat  in  faulte  that  a  thyng  is 
done."  In  Florio's  Giardino  di  Ricreatione,  I591)  "  Io  non  saprei  farci 
altro "  is  rendered  "  I  cannot  doo  with  all."  Cf.  also  Shelton's  Don 
Quixote,  1620:  "Why,  if  you  do  not  vnderstand  (said  Sancho),  I  cannot 
do  withall." 

75.  That  men.  This  omission  of  so  before  that  is  very  common.  See 
y.  C.  i.  I.  50 :  "  That  Tiber  trembled  ;"  Macb.  ii.  2.  7  :  "  That  death  and 
nature  do  contend,"  etc.  See  Gr.  283. 

77.  Raw.  Crude,  or,  in  Yankee  parlance,  "green."  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  iii. 
2.76:  "Thou  art  raw,"  etc. 

Jacks.  A  common  term  of  contempt.  See  Much  Ado,  v.  i.  91,  Hick. 
III.  i.  3.  72,  A.  and  C.  iii.  13.  93,  103,  A",  and  J.  ii.  4.  160,  etc. 

79.  All  my  whole.  Cf.  i  Hen.  VI.  i.  I.  126:  "All  the  whole  army;" 
Hen.  VIII.  i.  i.  12  :  "  All  the  whole  time,"  etc. 

SCENE  V. — 3.  I  fear  you.  That  is,  fear  for  yon  ;  as  in  24  below.  Stee- 
vens  quotes  Rich.  III.  i.  I.  137  :  "his  physicians  fear  him  mightily." 


ACT  IV.     SCENE   I.  jijrj 

4.  Agitation.     The  clown's  blunder  for  cogitation. 

12.  IVhen  I  shun  Scylla,  etc.  In  the  Alexandreis  of  Philip  Gaultier, 
written  in  the  early  part  of  the  I3th  century,  we  find  the  line, "  Incidis  in 
Scyllam,  cupiens  vitare  Charybdim,"  which  had  been  often  quoted  and 
translated  by  English  writers  before  the  time  of  S.  The  substance  of  the 
line  has  been  traced  even  farther  back,  to  St.  Augustine,  who  (/;/  Johan- 
nis  Evang.}  writes  :  "  quasi  fugiens  Charybdim,  in  Scyllam  incurras  . . . 
a  Charybdi  quidem  evasisti,  sed  in  Scyllaeis  scopulis  naufragisti." 

17.  Enow.    A  form  of  enough,  generally  plural.     Cf.  iv.  I.  29  below. 

36.  Cover.  Launcelot  quibbles  on  the  two  meanings  of  the  word,  to 
lay  the  table  and  to  wear  one's  hat  (see  above,  ii.  9.  43  :  "  how  many  then 
should  cover,"  etc.). 

38.  Quarrelling  with  occasion.  "Quibbling  on  every  opportunity,  tak- 
ing every  opportunity  to  make  perverse  replies  "  (Wr.). 

46.  Discretion.     Discrimination. 

Suited.     Suited  to  each  other,  arranged. 

49.  A  many.     This  expression  is  obsolete,  though  we  still  say  a  few, 
and  many  a  in  a  distributive  sense.     It  is  occasionally  used  in  poetry,  as 
by  Gerald  Massey  (Love's  Fairy  Ring) : 

"  We  've  known  a  many  sorrows,  Sweet : 
We  've  wept  a  many  tears." 

Wr.  quotes  Tennyson   (Miller's   Daughter) :  "  They  have   not  shed   a 
many  tears."     Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  i.  i.  121,  K.  John,  iv.  2.  199,  etc. 

50.  Garnished.     Furnished,  equipped. 

For  a  tricksy  word,  etc.  For  a  quibbling  word  (or  a  play  upon  words), 
set  the  meaning  at  defiance.  Tricksy  means  sportive  in  Temp.  v.  i.  226  : 
"  My  tricksy  spirit !" 

51.  How  cheer'st  thou?    Equivalent  to  "  What  cheer?  How  is  't  with 
you  ?"  in  IV.  T.  i.  2.  148.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  How  far'st  thou  ?" 

52.  Good  sweet.     No  term  of  compliment  or  endearment  did  more  ser- 
vice in  that  day  than  sweet.     This  combination  of  good  sweet  occurs  in 
Cor.  i.  3.  119,  M.  W.  iv.  2.  189,  etc.     Opinion  is  here  a  quadrisyllable. 

58.  Mean  it,  then  In  reason,  etc.  The  reading  of  R.'s  quarto.  H.'s 
quarto  differs  from  this  by  having  "it"  instead  of  then  ;  and  the  folio  has 
"  meane  it,  it  Is,"  etc.  Pope  reads  "  merit  it,  In  ;"  and  St.  conjectures 
"  moan,  it  is  In."  Mean  it  —  intend  to  live  an  upright  life. 

63.  Pawrfd.     Staked,  wagered.     Cf.  Cor.  iii.  I.  15,  Cymb.  \.  4.  118. 

70.  Howsoever.  The  folio  has  "  how  som  ere  " — a  common  vulgarism 
in  that  day. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I. — 5.  Uncapable.  S.  uses  both  incapable  (six  times)  and  itnca- 
pable  (twice).  So  we  find  uncertain  and  incertain,  unconstant  and  incon- 
stant, unfortunate  and  infortnnate,  ungrateful  and  ingrateful,  etc.  Gr.  442, 

8.  Obdurate.    The  accent  is  on  the  penult,  as  always  in  S.    See  Wore, 
on  the  word. 

9.  And  that.     Here  that  is  omitted  after  since,  and  is  then  inserted  in 


156  NOTES. 

the  second  clause  without  since.  This  is  a  common  construction  in  the 
Elizabethan  writers.  See  Gr.  285.  In  most  cases  the  subjects  of  the 
clauses  are  different.  Cf.  T.  and  C.  ii.  2.  177  : 

"//"this  law 

Of  nature  be  corrupted  through  affection, 
And  that  great  minds,"  etc. 

So  in  Ben  Jonson's  Cynthia's  Revels,  iii.  2:  "  Though  my  soul  be  guilty 
and  that  I  think,"  etc.  On  the  use  of  that  with  if,  since,  when,  etc.,  see 
on  ii.  6.  54  above. 

10.  Envy's.     See  on  iii.  2.  277  above.     Cf.  Mark,  xv.  10. 

18.  Lead'st  this  fashion,  etc.  You  keep  up  this  show  of  malice  only 
until  the  final  hour  of  execution. 

20.  Kemorse.     Relenting,  pity.     This  is  its  usual  meaning  in  S.     See 
K.  John,  ii.  i.  478:    "Soft  petitions,  pity,  and  remorse;"  Id.  iv.  3.  50: 
"tears  of  soft  remorse,"  etc.     So  remorseful^ compassionate,  and   re- 
morseless  =  pitiless  (as  at  present). 

21.  Apparent.  Here  ^seeming.  For  another  sense,  see  Rich.  II.  p.  150. 

22.  Where.    Whereas.    Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  iii.  i.  74  :   "  Where  I  thought  the 
remnant  of  mine  age,"  etc. ;  L.  L.  L.  ii.  i.  103  :  "  Where  now  his  knowl- 
edge must  prove  ignorance  ;"  Cor.  i.  10.  13  :  "  Where  I  thought  to  crush 
him,"  etc.     On  the  other  hand,  whereas  sometimes  =where  (D.),  as  in 
2  Hen.  VI.  i.  2.  58 :  "  Whereas  the  king  and  queen  do  mean  to  hawk." 

24.  Loose.  Release.  This  is  the  reading  of  the  early  eds.  except  the 
4th  folio,  which  has  "  lose." 

26.  Moiety.  Portion,  share  (not  an  exact  half)  ;  as  often  in  S.  Cf 
Ham.  i.  I.  90:  "a  moiety  competent ;"  and  see  our  ed.  p.  174. 

29.  Royal  merchant.  This  epithet  was  striking  and  well  understood 
in  S.'s  time,  when  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  was  honoured  with  the  title  of 
the  royal  merchant,  both  from  his  wealth,  and  because  he  transacted  the 
mercantile  business  of  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  and  at  Venice  the  Giustiniani, 
the  Grimaldi,  and  others  were  literally  "merchant  princes,"  and  known 
as  such  throughout  Europe.  For  enow,  see  on  iii.  5.  17  above. 

34.  Gentle.     A  pun  on  Gentile  is  doubtless  intended  (\Vr.) :  Possibly. 

35.  Possessed.     See  on  i.  3.  58  above. 

36.  Sabbath.    H.'s  quarto  has  "  Sabaoth."    "The  same  mistake  occurs 
in  Bacon's  Advancement  of  Learning,  ii.  24:  'Sacred  &  inspired  Diuin- 
itie,  the  Sabaoth  and  port  of  all  men's  labours  and  peregrinations.'  Spen- 
ser also  confounds  the  signification  of  the  two  words  (F.  Q.  viii.  2) : 

"  '  But  thenceforth  all  shall  rest  eternally 

With  him  that  is  the  God  of  Sabaoth  hight.' 

Dr.  Johnson,  in  the  first  edition  of  his  Dictionary,  treated  Sabbath  and 
Sabaoth  as  identical  words,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  (Ivanhoe,  ch.  x.), 
•]'  The  gains  of  a  week,  aye  the  space  between  two  Sabaoths.'  But  the 
error  has  been  corrected  in  later  editions"  (Wr.). 

39.  Your  charter.     See  on  iii.  2.  273  above. 

41.  Carrion.     A  favourite  term  of  contempt  with  S. 

43.  But,  say,  it  is.  But  suppose  it  is.  Capell  first  inserted  the  com« 
mas,  which  are  required  to  make  the  sense  clear. 

47.  Some  men  there  are  love  not.    For  the  omitted  relative,  see  Gr.  244. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 


157 


A  gaping  pig.  "Editors  and  commentators  have  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  discuss  the  point  whether  Shylock  means  the  gaping  of  a  pig 
brought  to  table  with  an  apple  in  its  mouth,  or  the  gaping  of  the  living, 
squealing  animal.  He  may  have  meant  either  "  (W.). 

49.  Masters  of  passion.  Agencies  (such  as  he  has  been  speaking  of) 
that  move  either  the  sympathy  or  antipathy  of  any  man.  Passion  is  used 
in  the  original  sense  of  feeling  or  emotion.  Cf.  J.  C.  i.  2.  48:  "1  have 
much  mistook  your  passion,"  etc. 

52.  Abide.  Bear,  endure.  Cf.  Temp.  i.  2.  360  :  "  which  good  natures 
Could  not  abide  to  be  with,"  etc. 

55.  Lodged.     Settled,  abiding. 

59.  Current.     Persistent  course. 

60.  My  answer.     H.'s  quarto  has  "my  answers." 

65.   Think  yon  question.     Consider  that  you  are  arguing  with. 

67.  Main  flood.  The  "ocean  tide."  Cf.  "the  flood,"  i.  i.  10.  '"The  main" 
generally  means  the  sea  (as  in  Rich.  III.  i.  4.  20  :  "  tumbling  billows  of  the 
main"),  but  sometimes  the  main  land.     Cf.  Ham.  iv.  4.  15  :  "the  main  of 
Poland,"  and  Lear,  iii.  I.  6  :  "swell  the  curled  waters  'bove  the  main." 

68.  You  may  as  welt  use  question,  etc.     In  the  copy  of  H.'s  quarto  be- 
longing to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  we  have  : 

"well  use  question  with  the  Woolfe, 
the  Ewe  bleake  for  the  Lambe. " 

while  in  the  copy  of  the  same  edition,  the  property  of  the  Earl  of  Elles- 
mere,  it  is  corrected  to  read  as  in  the  text  (except  that  it  retains  "  bleake  "). 
The  change  must  have  been  made  while  the  edition  was  printing.  The 
folio  prints  "  Or  euen  as  well  vse  question  with  the  Wolfe,"  but  leaves 
the  second  line  imperfect. 

70.  Pines.     The  quartos  have  "  of  pines." 

72.  Fretted.  Both  quartos  have  "  fretten  ;"  but  elsewhere  S.  uses  fretted. 

74.  What  's  harder  ?  Thus  in  the  quartos.  The  folios  have  "  what 
harder  ?" 

77.  With  all  brief  and  plain  conveniency.     "  With  such   brevity  and 
directness  as  befits  the  administration  of  justice"  (Wr.). 

78.  Have  judgment.      Receive   sentence.      Cf.   Rich.   II.   iv.    I.    123 : 
"Thieves  are  not  judg'd,"  etc.     See  also  Luke,  xix.  22. 

87.  Parts.     Capacities,  employments. 

95.  Dearly  bought.  In  "dear  bought"  (iii.  2.  308  above)  we  have,  as 
often,  the  adjective  for  the  adverb. 

99.  Upon  my  poiver.     By  virtue  of  my  prerogative. 

101.  Determine.  Decide.  The  word  sometimes  means  to  put  an  end  to, 
as  in  2  Hen.  IV.  iv.  5. 82  :  "  Till  his  friend  sickness  hath  determin'd  me  ;" 
sometimes,  to  come  to  an  end,  as  in  Cor.  v.  3.  120  :  "  till  these  wars  deter- 
mine." 

117.  Forfeiture.     Rowe  reads  "forfeit." 

118.  Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul.     Cf.  the  quibble  in  J.  C.  i.  I.  15  : 
"a  mender  of  bad  soles."     For  the  sentiment,  cf.  2.  Hen.  IV.  iv.  5.  107: 

"Thou  hid'st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts, 
Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart.'' 

120.  The  hattgmaiis  axe.    So  in  Fletcher's  Prophetess,  iii.  2,  Dioclesian, 


158  NOTES. 

who  had  stabbed  Aper,  is  called  "  the  hangman  of  Volusius  Aper  ;"  and  in 
Jacke  Drums  Entertainment  (1616),  when  Brabant  Junior  says,  "  let  mine 
owne  hand  Be  mine  owne  hangman,"  he  refers  to  stabbing  himself.  In 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  Rehearsal,  Bayes  speaks  of  "a  great  huge 
hangman,  .  .  .  with  his  sword  drawn  "  (D.).  Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  143. 
121.  Envy.  Malice.  See  on  iii.  2.  277  above. 

123.  Inexorable.     The  reading  of  the  3d  folio;  "  inexecrable  "  in  all 
the  earlier  eds. 

124.  For  thy  life.     For  allowing  thee  to  live. 

126.  Pythagoras.  The  philosopher  of  Samos,  to  whom  was  attributed 
the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  souls.  Cf.  T.  N.  iv.  2.  54  :  "  Clown. 
What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concerning  wild-fowl  ?  Malvolio. 
That  the  soul  of  our  grandam  might  haply  inhabit  a  bird." 

129.  Who,  hang'd,  etc.     See  on  i.  3.  126  above. 

133.  Starved.  The  folio  has  "steru'd."  The  word  is  the  A.  's.steorfan, 
Old  Eng.  stcrven  (frequent  in  Chaucer),  Ger.  sterben.  It  originally  meant, 
to  die,  but  in  the  latter  part  of  the  i6th  century  came  to  be  used  in  the 
narrower  sense  of  perishing  with  cold — a  meaning  which  it  still  has  in  the 
North  of  England  (see  also  2  Hen.  VI.  iii.  I.  343,  etc.) — or  with  hunger. 
We  find  the  form  sterve  in  Spenser,  F.  Q.  ii.  6.  34,  ii.  7.  57,  etc.  (=to  die), 
and  in  Shep.  Kal.  Feb.  83,  "starved  with  cold." 

137.  Cureless.     The  quarto  reading;  "endless"  in  the  folios. 

143.  Go  give.  Cf.  "come  view,"  ii.  7.  43  ;  "go  sleep,"  Rich.  II.  iv.  I. 
*39;  "g°  seek  tne  king,"  Ham.  ii.  I.  101,  etc.  Gr.  349. 

153.  To  fill  tip.     To  fulfil. 

154.  No  impediment  to  let  him  lack.     "  No  hindrance  to  his  receiving  " 
(Wr.j.     For  this  peculiar  form  of  "double  negative"  in  S.,  see  Schmidt, 
p.  1420.     Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  p.  156,  note  on  12. 

160.  Came  you.     The  quartos  have  "Come  you." 

162.  The  difference,  etc.  The  dispute  which  is  the  subject  of  the  pres- 
ent trial. 

164.  Throughly.     See  on  ii.  7.  42  above. 

169.  Such  rule.     Such  due  form. 

171.  Within  his  danger.  Cf.  V.  and  A.  639:  "Come  not  within  his 
danger  ;  T.  N.  v.  i.  87  :  "  Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town,"  etc. 

176.  It  droppelh,  etc.     As  Douce  suggests,  S.  may  have  had  in  mind 
Ecclesiasticus,  xxxv.  20 :  "  Mercy  is  seasonable  in  the  time  of  affliction, 
as  clouds  of  rain  in  the  time  of  drought." 

177.  Twice  blest.     "Endowed  with  double  blessing"  (Wr.). 

181.  Shows.  Represents.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  iii.  4.  42:  "showing,  as  in  a 
model,  our  firm  estate." 

187.  Show.     Show  itself,  appear.     Cf.  ii.  2.  167  above. 

188.  Seasons.     Tempers.     Malone  quotes  Edward  III.  (1596): 

"And  kings  approach  the  nearest  unto  God 
By  giving  life  and  safety  unto  men." 

and  Sir  John  Harrington's  Orlando  Furioso : 

"  This  noble  virtue  and  divine 
Doth  chiefly  make  a  man  so  rare  and  odd, 
As  in  that  one  he  most  resembleth  God." 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 


'59 


191.  We  do  pray  for  mercy,  etc.  Sir  W.  Blackstone  considered  this 
out  of  character  as  addressed  to  a  Jew.  S.  probably  had  the  Lord's 
Prayer  immediately  in  his  mind,  but  the  sentiment  is  also  found  in  EC- 
clesiasticus,  xxviii.  (K.). 

195.  Follow.     Insist  upon.     For  court  the  folios  have  "  course." 

199.  Discharge.     Pay.     See  on  iii.  2.  268  above. 

201.  Twice.  Some  critics  would  change  this  to  thrice,  because  we 
have  "thrice  the  sum"  just  below.  It  is  possible  that  twice  is  a  mis- 
print, as  W.  suggests,  but  we  see  no  necessity  for  bringing  the  two  pas- 
sages into  mathematical  agreement.  For  Shakespeare's  carelessness  in 
these  little  arithmetical  matters,  see  C.  of  E.  p.  148,  note  on  400. 

205.  Truth.  Honesty.  So  "  a  true  man  "  was  an  honest  man,  as  op- 
posed to  a  thief.  See  M.for  M.  iv.  2.  46:  "Every  true  man's  apparel 
fits  your  thief;"  I  Hen.  IV.  ii.  2.  98:  "the  thieves  have  bound  the  true 
men,"  etc. 

211.  Precedent.     The  folios  have  "president." 

214.  A  Daniel  come  to  judgment.     The  allusion  is  to  the  History  of  Su- 
sanna, 45  :  "  The  Lord  raised  up  the  holy  spirit  of  a  young  youth,  whose 
name  was  Daniel,"  etc. 

215.  How  do  I.     The  quartos  have  "how  I  do." 

239.  Hath  full  relation,  etc.  Clearly  recognizes  that  this  penalty  (like 
any  other)  should  be  paid. 

242.  More  elder.  Double  comparatives  and  superlatives  are  common 
in  the  Elizabethan  writers.  In  S.  we  find  "more  larger"  (A.  and  C.  iii. 
6.  76),  "  more  better ' '  ( Temp.  i.  2.  19), "  more  braver  "  (Id,  i.  2.  439), "  more 
rawer"  (Ham.  v.  2.  129),  "most  boldest"  (J.  C.  iii.  i.  121),  "most  un- 
kindest"  (Id.  iii.  2.  187),  etc.  See  Gr.  11.  In  Rich.  II.  ii.  i.  49  we  find 
"less  happier,"  the  only  instance  with  less  found  in  S. 

245.  The  very  words.     We  still  use  very  as  an  adjective  in  this  sense 
of  exact,  or  precise,  though  not  in  the  sense  of  true,  as  in  iii.  2.  218  above. 

246.  Balance.     W.  says,  "The  plural  form  balances  was  rarely  used  in 
S.'s  day,  if  at  all."     We  find  "  ballances,  or  a  payre  of  ballance  :  libra  " 
in  Baret's  Alvearie  (1580),  and  Cotgrave  (1611)  has  "balance  ;  a  pair  of 
balances."     Here,  however,  it  may  be  a  contracted  plural.     See  Gr.  471. 

248.  On  your  charge.     At  your  expense. 

249.  Do  bleed.    The  folios  have  "should  bleed,"  and  in  the  next  line 
"It  is  so  nominated,"  and  in  254  "Come  merchant." 

259.  Still  her  use.  Ever  her  custom.  See  on  i.  i.  17  above.  On  use, 
cf.  J.  C.  ii.  2. 25  :  "  these  things  are  beyond  all  use." 

263.  Such  misery.  Wr.  suggests  that  misery  may  have  the  accent  on 
the  penult  both  here  and  in  K.  John,  iii.  4:  "And  buss  thee  as  thy  wife. 
Misery's  love,"  etc.  Cf.  Gr.  490  (p.  390). 

266.  Speak  me  fair  in  death.  Speak  well  of  me  when  I  am  dead.  "  Ro- 
meo that  spoke  him  fair  "  (R.  and  J.  iii.  i.  158)  means  "  Romeo  that  spoke 
to  him  in  conciliatory  terms  ;"  and,  as  Wr.  remarks,  this,  is  the  usual 
meaning  of  the  phrase. 

268.  A  love.     Cf.  lover  in  iii.  4.  1 7  above.     D.  reads  "  lover  "  here. 

269.  Repent  not  you.     The  quartos  have  "Repent  but  you,"  which  the 
Camb.  ed.  retains. 


!6o  NOTES. 

272.  Instantly.     R.'s  quarto  has  "  presently." 

With  all  my  heart.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  ii.  i.  74  fol.,  where  the  dying  Gaunt 
jests  on  his  name : 

"  Old  Gaunt  indeed,  and  gaunt  in  being  old  : 

*  *  *  *  * 

Gaunt  am  I  for  the  grave,  gaunt  as  a  grave,"  etc.  ; 

and  where,  in  reply  to  Richard's  question,  "  Can  sick  men  play  so  nicely 
with  their  names  ?"  he  says  :  "  No,  misery  makes  sport  to  mock  itself." 
274.  Which  is  as  dear.     See  on  ii.  7. 4  above. 

286.  These  be.     See  on  i.  3.  19  above. 

287.  Barrdbas.    So  spelled  in  Tyndale's  and  Coverdale's  versions.    In 
Marlowe's  yew  of  Malta  the  name  is  Barabas,  not  Bar  abbas  (Wr.). 

289.  Pursue.    Accented  on  the  first  syllable,    ^.pursuit  in  Sonn.  143.  4. 

299.  7ake  then.     The  folios  read  "Then  take." 

302.  Confiscate.  Confiscated.  This  Latinism  is  most  frequent  in  verbs 
derived  from  the  first  conjugation  (as  dedicate,  consecrate,  degenerate,  suffo- 
cate, etc.),  but  it  is  found  in  other  Latin  derivatives.  See  Gr.  342. 

318.  Be  it  but.     The  folios  omit  but. 

319.  The  substance.     The  amount. 

325.  I  have  thee  on  the  hip.     See  on  i.  3.  40  above. 
335-  So  taken.     The  folios  have  "  taken  so." 
340.  Alien.     A  trisyllable.     See  on  i.  i.  8  above. 

343.  Contrive.  Plot.  Cf.  J.  C.  ii.  3.  16:  "the  fates  with  traitors  do 
contrive  ;"  and  see  our  ed.  p.  153. 

359.  Spirits.     H  's  quarto  and  the  folios  have  "  spirit." 

363.  Which  humbleness,  etc.     Which  humble  entreaty  on  thy  part  may 
induce  me  to  commute  for  a  fine. 

364.  Ay,  for  the  state,  etc.     That  is,  the  half  which  goes  to  the  state 
may  be  thus  commuted,  but  not  Antonio's. 

374.  In  use.  In  trust  for  Shylock,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  it  at  his 
death  to  Lorenzo.  Use  does  not  mean  interest,  which  Antonio  has  said 
(i.  3.  55  above)  that  he  neither  gives  nor  takes. 

380.  Of  all  he  dies  possessed.     See  on  i.  i.  125  above. 

389.  Thou  shall.     The  quartos  have  "shalt  thou." 

390.  Ten  more.     To  make  up  a  jury  of  twelve.     This,  as  Malone  ob- 
serves, appears  to  have  been  an  old  joke. 

392.  Home  with  me.     The  folios  have  "  with  me  home." 

393.  Desire  your  grace  of  pardon.    Cf.  M.  N.  D.  iii.  I.  185  :  "desire  you 
of  more  acquaintance  ;"  and  Oth.  iii.  3.  212  :  "  beseech  you  of  your  par- 
don."    So  in   Spenser,  F.  Q.  ii.  9.  42  :    "  If  it  be  I,  of  pardon  I  you 
pray." 

397.  Gratify.  Recompense.  Cf.  Cor.  ii.  2.  44  :  "  To  gratify  his  noble 
service,"  etc. 

403.  Cope.     Reward,  requite. 

412.  Of  force.     Of  necessity.     Perforce  is  still  used  in  this  sense. 

Attempt.  Tempt.  Cf.  M.for  M.  iv.  2.  205  :  "  neither  my  coat,  integ- 
rity, nor  persuasion  can  with  ease  attempt  you  "  (Wr.). 

442.  Be  valued  'gainst.  The  folios  have  "  valued  against,"  the  quartos 
"valew'd  gainst,"  which  requires  "  commandement "  (the  reading  of  both 


ACT  V.    SCENE  /.  !$! 

quartos  and  folio)  to  be  a  quadrisyllable.  W.  says  that  this  pronuncia- 
tion was  obsolete  in  S.'s  day;  but  it  is  required  in  i  Hen.  VI.  i.  3.  20: 
"  From  him  I  have  express  commandement."  See  Gr.  488. 

SCENE  II. — 6.  Upon  more  ad-vice.  Upon  further  consideration.  Cf. 
M.for  M.  v.  i.  469 :  "  after  more  advice  ;"  and  Rich.  II.  i.  3.  233  :  "  upon 
good  advice  "  (after  due  deliberation),  etc. 

15.  Old  swearing.  Old  in  this  intensive  or  augmentative  sense  is  com- 
mon in  writers  of  the  time.  For  other  examples  in  S.,  see  Macb.  ii.  3.  2, 
M.  W.  i.  4.  5,  Much  Ado,  v.  2.  98,  and  2  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  21.  Cf.  the  slang 
phrase  of  our  day,  "  a  high  old  time."  The  Italian  vecchio,  as  D.  remarks, 
is  (or  was)  used  in  the  same  sense. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I. — 4.  Troilus.  S.  in  the  play  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  makes 
"Cressid"  the  daughter  of  the  soothsayer  Calchas,  but  her  name  is  not 
found  in  classic  fable.  The  allusion  here  is  borrowed  from  Chaucer's 
Troilus  and  Cresseide,  in  which  the  prince  is  described  as  watching  "  upon 
the  walles"  for  Cressida's  coming. 

7.  Thisbe.  The  story  of  the  Babylonian  lovers,  Pyramus  and  Thisbe, 
is  told  by  Ovid,  Met.  iv.  55.  fol.  Golding's  translation  was  published  in 
1564,  but  S.  may  have  read  the  original.  He  probably  drew  more  directly 
from  Chaucer's  Legende  of  Goode  Women,  in  which  Thisbe,  Dido,  and 
Medea  are  introduced  one  after  another. 

10.  Dido.     The  picture  of  Dido  is  not  in  accordance  with  Virgil's  nar- 
rative.    It  may  have  been  suggested  by  that  of  Ariadne  in  the  Legende 
of  Goode  Women  (2187  fol.)  : 

"to  the  stronde  barefote  fast  she  went. — 

***** 

Hire  kerchefe  on  a  pole  styked  shee, 

Ascaunce  that  he  shulde  hyt  wel  ysee, 

And  hym  remembre  that  she  was  behynde, 

And  turn  agayne,  and  on  the  stronde  hire  fynde. " 

The  earliest  reference  to  the  willow  as  a  symbol  of  forsaken  love  is 
found  in  a  MS.  collection  of  poems  by  John  Heywood,  about  1530.  See 
Brand's  Popular  Antiquities,  vol.  i.  pp.  121-124  (Bonn's  ed.).  Cf.  Much 
Ado,  ii.  I.  194,  225,  Of/i.  iv.  3.  28  fol.,  3  Hen.  VI.  iii.  3.  228,  etc. 

1 1.  Waft.    For  wafted,  as  in  K.  John,  ii.  i.  73  :  "  Than  now  the  English 
bottoms  have  waft  o'er."     Theo.  altered  it  to  wav'd,  which  W.  and  many 
other  editors  adopt.     Cf.  lift  for  lifted  in  i  Hen.  VI.  i.  i.  16,  Gen.  vii.  17, 
Ps.  xciii.  3,  etc.     Gr.  341.  L    , 

13.  Medea.    The  allusion  is  to  the  fable  of  her  restoring  /Eson,  the  father 
of  Jason,  to  youthful  vigour  by  her  enchantments.     Ovid  (Met.  vii.)  tells 
us  that  she  drew  blood  from  his  veins,  and  supplied  its  place  witn  the  juice 
of  certain  herbs.     In  Gower's  C<mf.  Am.  thei'e  is  a  beautiful  description 
of  Medea  going  forth  at  midnight  to  gather  "  the  enchanted  herbs  :" 
"Thus  it  befell  upon  a  night 
Whann  there  was  nought  but  sterre  light, 


1 62  NOTES. 

She  was  vanished  right  as  hir  list, 
That  no  wight  but  herself  wist, 
And  that  was  at  midnight  tide, 
The  world  was  still  on  every  side,"  etc 

16.  Unthrift,  We  have  the  adjective  again  in  T.  of  A.  iv.  3.  311,  and 
the  noun  in  Rich.  II.  ii.  3.  122,  SOHH.  9.  9  and  13.  13. 

28.  Stephana.  In  the  Temp,  this  name  has  the  accent  on  the  first  syl- 
lable, where  it  belongs. 

31.  Holy  crosses.  These  are  very  common  in  Italy.  Besides  those  in 
churches,  they  mark  the  spots  where  heroes  were  born,  where  saints  rest- 
ed, where  travellers  died.  They  rise  on  hill-tops,  and  at  the  intersection 
of  roads  ;  and  there  is  now  a  shrine  of  the  Madonna  del  Mare  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea  between  Mestre  and  Venice,  and  another  between  Venice 
and  Palestrina,  where  the  gondolier  and  mariner  cross  themselves  in  pass- 
ing, and  whose  lamp  nightly  gleams  over  the  waters,  in  moonlight  and 
storm  (K.). 

36.  Go  we  in.  See  on  ii.  8.  53  above.  In  "let  us  prepare,"  in  the  next 
line,  we  have  the  ordinary  form  of  the  ist  pers.  imperative. 

39.  Sola,  etc.     An  imitation  of  the  post-horn. 

41.  Master  Lorenzo  and  Mistress  Lorenzo.  R.'s  quarto  has  "  M.  Lorenzo, 
M.  Lorenzo;"  H.'s  quarto  and  the  ist  folio,  "  M.  Lorenzo  &  M.  Loren- 
zo ;"  the  later  folios,  "  M.  Lorenzo,  and  Mrs.  Lorenza."  The  Camb.  ed. 
reads  :  "  did  you  see  Master  Lorenzo  ?  Master  Lorenzo,  sola,  sola  !" 

53.  Music.  This  word  sometimes  meant  musical  instruments,  or  a  band 
of  music.  See  Hen.  VIII.  iv.  2.  94:  "Bid  the  music  leave;  They  aie 
harsh,"  etc.  Cf.  98  below  :  "  It  is  your  music,  madam,  of  the  house." 

56.  Creep  in.     On  in  for  into,  see  Gr.  159. 

59.  Patines.  The  patine  was  the  plate  used  for  the  sacramental  bread, 
and  was  sometimes  made  of  gold.  R.'s  quarto  has  "  patients ;"  H.'s 
quarto  and  the  ist  folio,  "pattens  ;"  and  the  2d  folio,  "patterns,''  which 
is  adopted  by  some  modern  editors. 

61.  His  motion.     His  for  its  ;  as  in  82  below.     Gr.  228. 

Sings.  For  other  allusions  to  the  "music  of  the  spheres"  in  S.,  see 
A.  and  C.  v.  2.  84,  T.  N.  iii.  i.  121,  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  7.  6,  etc. 

62.  Cherubins.     So  in  both  quartos  and  first  two  folios  ;  "  cherubims  " 
in  the  later  folios.     The  singular  cherubin  is  found  in  Temp.  \.  2.  152, 
Mncb.  i.  7.  22,  Oth.  iv.  2.  63,  and  L.  C.  319  ;  cherub  only  in  Ham.  iv.  3.  50. 
Cherubin  occurs  in   Spenser  and  other  poets  of  the  time,  and  is  used 
even  by  Dryden.     The  French  word  is  cherubin,  the  Italian  chernbino, 
the  Spanish  qnernbin. 

63.  Such  harmony,  etc.   Besides  the  music  of  the  spheres,  which  no  mor- 
tal ear  ever  caught  a  note  of, there  was  by  some  philosophers  supposed  to  be 
a  harmony  in  the  human  soul.   "  Touching  musical  harmony,"  says  Hook- 
er (quoted  by  Farmer),  "whether  by  instrument  or  by  voice,  it  being  but 
of  high  and  low  sounds  in  a  due  proportionable  disposition,  such,  notwith- 
standing, is  the  force  thereof,  and  so  pleasing  effects  it  hath  in  that  very 
part  of  man  which  is  most  divine,  that  some  have  been  thereby  induced 
to  think  that  the  soul  itself,  by  nature  is,  or  hath  in  it,  harmony."     But, 
though  this  harmony  is  within  us,  "  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay,"  as  the 
poet  tells  us,  "doth  grossly  close  it  in"  so  that  we  cannot  hear  it. 


ACT    V.     SCENE   2.  ^3 

72.  Unhand! fd  colts.  Cf.  Ariel's  simile  of  the  "  unback'd  colts,"  Temp. 
iv.  i.  176. 

77.  Mutual.     Common.     Cf.  M.  N.  D.  iv.  i.  122:  "mutual  cry,"  etc. 
So.  Orpheus.     Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  iii.  2.  78  : 

"  For  Orpheus'  lute  was  strung  with  poets'  sinews, 
Whose  golden  touch  could  soften  steel  and  stones,"  etc. ; 

and  Hen.  VIII.  iii.  1.3: 

"Orpheus  with  his  lute  made  trees, 
And  the  mountain  tops  that  freeze, 
Bow  themselves  when  he  did  sing." 

87.  Erebus.  Cf.  J.  C.  ii.  I.  84:  "Not  Erebus  itself  were  dim  enough," 
etc.  The  word,  though  sometimes  used  figuratively  for  the  lower  world 
in  general,  denotes  strictly  "  a  place  of  nether  darkness  between  the  Earth 
and  Hades." 

99.  Without  respect.  Absolutely,  without  regard  to  circumstances.  St. 
thinks  it  means  without  attention,  and  refers  to  the  attended  that  follows. 

103.  Attended.     Attended  to,  listened  to  attentively.     Cf.  Sonn.  102.  7  : 

"  As  Philomel  in  summer's  front  doth  sing, 
And  stops  her  pipe  in  growth  of  riper  days; 
Not  that  the  summer  is  less  pleasant  now 
Than  when  her  mournful  hymns  did  hush  the  night, 
But  that  wild  music  burthens  every  bough, 
And  sweets  grown  common  lose  their  dear  delight." 

All  the  birds  mentioned  here — the  crow,  lark,  cuckoo,  etc. — are  found  in 
Italy. 

107.  By  season,  etc.  "  By  fitness  of  occasion  are  adapted  or  qualified 
to  obtain  their  just  appreciation,  and  to  show  their  true  excellence." 

109.  Peace,  ho!  The  old  copies  have  "  Peace  !  How  the  moon,"  etc., 
and  some  of  the  editors  prefer  this  reading.  But,  as  D.  remarks,  "  how  " 
is  often  the  old  spelling  of  ho!  In  J.  C.  i.  2.  i  we  find  "Peace,  ho!" 
used,  as  here,  to  silence  the  music. 

Endymion.  A  beautiful  shepherd  beloved  by  Diana.  Fletcher,  in 
the  Faithful  Shepherdess,  tells 

"  How  the  pale  Phcebe,  hunting  in  a  grove, 
First  saw  the  boy  Endymion,  from  whose  eyes 
She  took  eternal  fire  that  never  dies; 
How  she  conveyed  him  softly  in  a  sleep, 
His  temples  bound  with  poppy,  to  the  steep 
Head  of  old  Latmos,  where  she  stoops  each  night, 
Gilding  the  mountain  with  her  brother's  light, 
To  kiss  her  sweetest." 

The  fable  appears  in  many  forms  in  the  classic  writers,  and  has  been  a 
favourite  one  with  poets  ever  since. 

115.   Which  speed.     See  on  ii.  7.  4  above. 

121.  A  tucket  sounds.  This  stage-direction  is  found  in  the  ist  folio.  A 
tucket  (probably  from  the  Italian  toccata}  is  a  flourish  on  a  trumpet.  Cf. 
Hen.  V.  iv.  2.  35  :  "  Then  let  the  trumpet  sound  The  tucket-sonance." 

127.  We  should  hold  day,  etc.  We  should  have  day  when  the  Antipodes 
do,  if  you,  Portia,  would  walk  abroad  at  night. 


1 64  NOTES. 

129.  Let  me  give  light,  etc.     See  on  iii.  2.  91  above. 

132.  God  sort  all!    God  dispose  all  things  !     Cf.  Rich.  Til.  ii.  3.  36 : 

"  All  may  be  well ;  but  if  God  sort  it  so, 
'T  is  more  than  we  deserve,  or  I  expect." 

136.  In  all  sense.     In  all  reason. 

141.  Breathing  courtesy.     Cf.  Macb.  v.  3.  27  :  "  Mouth-honour,  breath." 

146.  Poesy.  The  poesy  or  posy  (for  the  two  words  are  the  same),  of  a  ring 
was  a  motto  or  rhyme  inscribed  upon  its  inner  side.  The  fashion  of  put- 
ting such  "posies  "on  rings  prevailed  from  the  middle  of  the  i6th  to  the 
close  of  the  17th  centuries.*  In  1624  a  little  book  was  published  with 
the  quaint  title,  Lovis  Garland,  or  Posies  for  Rings,  Handkerchiefs,  and 
Gloves  ;  and  such  pretty  tokens,  that  lovers  send  their  loves.  Lyly,  in  his 
Euphues,  Part  Second,  1597,  hopes  that  the  ladies  will  be  favourable  to  his 
work,  "writing  your  judgments  as  you  do  the  Posies  in  your  rings,  which 
'are  always  next  to  the  ringer,  not  to  be  scene  of  him  that  holdeth  you  by 
the  hand,  and  yet  knowne  by  you  that  weare  them  on  your  hands."  The 
Rev.  Giles  Moore,  in  his  Journal,  1673-4,  writes,  "  I  bought  for  Ann  Brett 
a  gold  ring,  this  being  the  posy  :  When  this  you  see,  remember  me."  Cf. 
Ham.  iii.  2.  162 :  "  Is  this  a  prologue,  or  the  poesy  of  a  ring  ?"  In  most 
of  the  modern  editions  (not  in  K.  or  W.)  we  find  "  posy  "  in  this  pas- 
sage, as  well  as  iii  the  M.  of  V.  ;  but  the  1st  folio  has  "  Poesie"  in  both 
plays.  These  are  the  only  instances  in  which  S.  uses  the  word  in  this  sense. 

148.  Leave  me  not.  Do  not  part  with  me.  Leave  is  used  in  the  same 
sense  by  Portia  in  170  below. 

irrespective.  Considerate,  regardful.  Cf.  R.  and  J.  iii.  I.  128  :  "re- 
spective lenity;"  which  Malone  well  explains  by  "cool, considerate  gen- 
tleness." See  also  K.  John,  i.  I.  188. 

155.  But  well  I  know.    Both  quartos  have  "No,  God  's  my  judge." 
The  change  may  have  been  made  on  account  of  the  statute  of  James  I. 
against  the  use  of  the  name  of  God  on  the  stage ;  but  see  on  i.  2.  96  above. 

156.  On  V.     For  examples  of  similar  contraction,  see  Gr.  182. 

160.  Scrubbed.  Not  merely  stunted,  as  usually  explained,  but  rather,  as 
W.  gives  it,  "dwarfish  and  unkempt.''  Cotgrave  (Fr.  and  Eng.  Diet.} 
has,  "  Marpaut.  An  ill-favoured  scrub,  a  little  onglie  or  swartie  -wretch" 
Coles  (L»t.  and  Eng.  Diet.}  translates  "scrubbed  "  by  sqnalidus. 

175.  /  were  best.   Cf.  J.  C.  iii.  3.  13  :  "  truly  you  were  best,"  etc.    Gr.  352. 

197.  The  virtue  of  the  ring.  The  power  it  has;  the  right  to  me  and 
mine  of  which  it  is  the  pledge.  See  iii.  2. 171,  where  Portia  gives  the  ring. 

199.  Contain.  Retain;  as  in  Sonii.jj.f):  "what  thy  memory  cannot 
contain,"  etc.  It  often  means  restrain  ;  as  in  T.  of  A.  ii.  2.  26:  "con- 
tain thyself,"  etc. 

202.  Had  plea? d  te  have  defended.    For  "had  pleased  to  defend."   The 
inaccuracy  is  sometimes  found  in  good  writers  of  our  day,  and  has  even 
been  defended  by  one  or  two  grammarians. 

203.  Wanted.     As  to  have  wanted. 

*  Inscriptions  on  the  outside  of  rings  have  been  common  from  the  old  Greek  and 
Roman  times.  Chaucer,  in  Troilus  and  Cresseiiie,  describes  the  heroine  as  giving  her 
lover  a  ring  with  a  love-motto  upon  it,  and  receiving  one  in  return. 


ADDENDA.  ^5 

204.  Urge.  Urge  you  to  give  it  to  him;  insist  upon  it.  Ceremony  = 
a  sacred  thing. 

208.  Civil  doctor.     Doctor  of  civil  law. 

212.  Did  uphold.     H.'s  quarto  and  the  folios  have  "had  held  up." 

218.  For,  by  these,  etc.  The  folios  have  "  And,  by  these."  Cf.  R.  and 
J.  iii.  5.  9  :  "  Night's  candles  are  burnt  out ;"  Macb.  ii.  1.5:  "  There  's 
husbandry  in  heaven  ;  Their  candles  are  all  out ;"  and  Fairfax's  Tasso, 
ix.  10 :  "When  heaven's  small  candles  next  shall  shine"  (where  the 
original  has  merely  di  notte}.  See  also  Sonn.  21.  12. 

237.  Wealth.     Weal,  welfare.     In  the  Litany  "  wealth  "  is  opposed  to 
"tribulation." 

238.  Which.     That  is,  which  loan. 

239.  Miscarried.     Perished;  as  in  ii.  8.  29  and  iii.  2.  310  above.     Cf. 
T.  N.  p.  152,  or  2  Hen.  IV.  p.  182. 

241.  Advisedly.   Deliberately.   Cf.  advised  in  i.  I.  142  and  ii.  I.  42  above. 

257.  Richly.     Richly  laden.     Cf.  "richly  left,"  i.  i.  161  above. 

260.  Living.     See  on  livings,  iii.  2.  156  above. 

262.  To  road.  To  harbour.  Cf.  "ports,  and  piers,  and  roads,"  i.  I.  19 
above. 

270.  Satisfied  of.  Satisfied  concerning  (Gr.  174)  ;  that  is,  you  wish  to 
know  more  about  them.  Atfull  =  \n  full,  fully. 

272.  And  charge  us,  etc.  "  In  the  Court  of  Queen's  Bench,  when  a 
complaint  is  made  against  a  person  for  'contempt,'  the  practice  is  that 
before  sentence  is  finally  pronounced  he  is  sent  into  the  Crown  Office, 
and  being  there  '  charged  upon  interrogatories '  he  is  made  to  swear  that 
he  will  'answer  all  things  faithfully'"  (Lord  Campbell's  Shakespeare's 
Legal  Acquirements}. 

Inter gatories.  This  contracted  form  was  common  in  S.'s  time.  We 
find  it  even  in  prose  in  A.  W.  iv.  3.  207,  as  printed  in  the  early  editions. 
The  full  form  occurs  in  K.  John,  iii.  i.  147.  See  also  Cymb.  p.  223. 


ADDENDA. 

THE  "TIME-ANALYSIS"  OF  THE  PLAY. — The  Rev.  N.  J.  Halpin,  in 
an  elaborate  paper  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the  New  Shakspere 
Society,  1875-76,  pp.  388-412,  makes  the  entire  time  covered  by  the  play 
only  thirty-nine  hours,  which  he  divides  into  two  periods,  with  the  inter- 
val between  them,  as  follows : 

"  i.  The  first  period  ranges  from  the  opening  of  the  action  and  the 
borrowing  of  Shylock's  money,  to  the  embarkation  of  Bassanio  and  his 
suite  for  Belmont  [10  hours]. 

"  2.  The  second  includes  the  time  between  Bassanio's  arrival  at  Belmont 
and  his  return  to  it,  accompanied  by  Antonio  after  the  trial  [18  hours]. 

"3.  And  the  interval  between  these  two  periods  is  concurrent  with  the 
time  of  the  bond,  whatever  that  may  be  [ii  hours,  or  from  9  P.M.  of  one 
day  to  8  A.M.  of  the  next]." 

Mr.  Halpin  assumes  that  the  bond  is  a  fraudulent  one,  payable  at  sight 


1 66  NOTES. 

or  on  demand,  which  Shylock  has  substituted  for  the  three-months  bond 
agreed  upon. 

In  a  note  read  before  the  New  Shaks.  Soc.  Oct.  I2th,  1877  (printed  in 
the  Transactions,  1877-79,  PP-  4I-57)>  ar>d  also  in  his  paper  "On  the 
Times  or  Durations  of  the  Action  of  Shakspere's  Plays"  (same  vol.  of 
Transactions,  p.  148  fol.),  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel  shows  the  inaccuracy  of  Hal- 
pin's  scheme,  and  sums  up  his  own  "  time-analysis  "  thus  : 

"Time  :  eight  days  represented  on  the  stage;  with  intervals.     Total 
time  :  a  period  of  rather  more  than  three  months. 
Day  i.  Act  i. 

Interval — say  a  week.  * 
"    2.  Act  II.  sc.  i.-vii. 

Interval — one  day.  t 
"    3.  Act  II.  sc.  viii.  and  ix. 

Interval — bringing  the  time  to  within  a  fortnight  of  the  ma- 
turity of  the  bond. 
"    4.  Act  III.  sc.  i. 

Interval — rather  more  than  a  fortnight.}: 
"    5.  Act  III.  sc.  ii.-iv. 
"    6.  Act  III.  sc.  v.,  Act  IV. 
"    7  and  8.  Act  V.§" 

BASSANIO'S  ARROWS  (i.  I.  140  fol.). — In  the  Trans,  of  New  Shaks.  Soc. 
1877-79,  p.  460,  Mr.  Furnivall  quotes  the  following  illustrative  passage 
from  Quips  vpon  Questions,  1600  : 

"ffmu  shall  I  finde  it  ? 

lie  tell  thee  how  to  finde  that  eare  againe. 
Children,  in  shooting,  when  they  loose  an  Arrow 
In  high  growne  or  deepe  grasse,  omit  no  paine, 
But  with  their  Bowes  end,  rake  and  search  it  narrow, 

And  when  they  bootlesse  seeke,  and  finde  it  not, 

After  some  sorrow,  this  amendes  is  got : 

*  In  ii.  2,  we  find  Launcelot  lamenting  his  hard  life  in  Shylock's  service ;  he  knows 
that  Bassanio  gives  "rare  new  liveries,"  and  we  may  suppose  that  in  going  of  errands 
between  Shylock  and  Bassanio  he  has  gained  his  knowledge  of  the  superior  comforts  to 
be  obtained  in  the  service  of  the  latter.  He  accordingly  petitions  to  be  admitted  his 
servant,  and  he  obtains  his  end;  for  Bassanio  "knows  him  well,"  and  tells  him  that 
this  very  day  Shylock  himself  has  preferred  him.  This  fact  alone  shows  that  Shylock — 
however  inwardly  he  has  cherished  his  hate — has  been  at  least  for  some  little  time  in 
familiar  intercourse  with  Bassanio  and  his  friends  since  the  signing  of  the  bond.  Mean- 
while Bassanio  has  engaged  his  ship,  and  is  waiting  for  a  fair  wind  ;  and  Lorenzo  has 
been  courting  Jessica.  Note  also  what  Jessica  says  in  iii.  2.  279  fol.  All  this  supposes 
a  lapse  of  time— say  a  week — since  the  signing  of  the  bond. 

t  For  Bassanio's  journey  to  Belmont,  etc. 

i  In  iii.  i,  Shylock  says  to  Tubal :  "Go,  Tubal,  fee  me  an  officer  ;  bespeak  him  a  fort- 
night before."  However  doubtful  we  may  feel  as  to  its  flight,  this  distinct  note  of  time 
leaves  us  no  choice  but  to  believe  in  an  interval,  between  this  and  the  preceding  scenes, 
of  sufficient  length  to  bring  the  three-months  bond  to  within  a  fortnight  of  its  maturity. 

§  After  the  trial  Bassanio  and  Antonio  propose  to  fly  towards  Belmont  early  next 
morning.  Portia  and  Nerissa  start  for  home  that  night,  and  arrive  on  the  next  night 
(Day  7)  before  their  husbands.  Act  V.  begins  at  a  late  hour  that  night,  and  ends  two 
hours  before  day  (Day  8). 


ADDENDA.  ^ 

An  other  shaft  they  shoote  lhat  direct  way 
As  whilome  they  the  first  shot ;  and  be  plaine 
Twentie  to  one,  as  I  haue  heard  some  say, 
The  former  Arrow  may  be  found  againe. 
So,  as  you  lost  the  first  eare,  gentle  brother, 
Venture  the  second  eare,  to  find  the  tother. 
Nay,  soft  and  faire,  to  do  that  I  am  loth ; 
So  I  may  happen  for  to  lose  them  both. 
Q    • ,      (  Better  lost  than  found :  who  'will  bewee/>e  them  ? 
"    *"     \Fools  hauing  eares, yet  do  -want  -wit  to  keepe  them.'1''   « 

A  breed  of  barren  metal  (p.  136).  Mr.  Furnivall  cites  Middleton,  The 
Blacke  Booke :  "  coming  to  repay  both  the  money  and  the  breed  of  it — for 
interest  may  well  be  called  the  usurer's  bastard,"  etc. 

Sand-Mind  (p.  138).  Mr.  Furnivall  quotes  Baret,  Alvearie,  1580:  "  Sand- 
blind.  Vide  Bleare  eied,  &  Poreblind  "  (that  is,  purblind);  and  "  Poore- 
blind,  or  that  seeth  dimlie  .  .  .  Qiti  ha.  courts  vette." 

No  master,  sir,  but  a  poor  mail's  son  (ii.  2.  43).  Mr.  Furnivall  quotes 
Sir  Thomas  Smith's  Commonwealth  of  England  (ed.  1612) :  "as  for  gen- 
tleme,  they  be  made  good  cheap  in  England.  For  whosoeuer  studieth 
the  laws  of  the  Realm,  who  studieth  in  the  Uniuersities,  who  professeth 
liberall  Sciences :  and  to  be  short,  who  can  liue  idely,  and  without  man- 
uall  labour,  and  will  beare  the  port,  charge  and  countenance  of  a  Gentle- 
man, hee  shall  bee  called  master,  for  that  is  the  tytle  which  men  giue  to 
Esquires,  and  other  Gentlemen,  and  shall  bee  taken  for  a  Gentleman." 

Cater-cousins  (p.  139).  W.  G.  S.  ( Trans.  ATe?v  Shaks.  Soc,  1877-79,  P- 
463)  finds  an  instance  of  this  word  in  Mabbe's  Guzman  de  Alfarache, 
1623:  "I  was  not  halfe  Cater-cousins  with  him,  because  by  his  meanes, 
I  had  lost  my  Cloake,  and  sup't  vpon  a  Mule." 

Reply,  reply  (iii.  2.  66).  The  early  eds.  print  "  How  begot,  how  nour- 
ished. Replie,  replie"  H.  ("  Harvard  "  ed.)  follows  Hanmer  and 
Johnson  in  reading  ''•Reply'1''  as  a  stage-direction,  though  no  other  instance 
of  such  use  has  been  pointed  out.  As  the  Camb.  editors  remark,  the 
words  "  seem  to  be  required  as  part  of  the  song  by  the  rhythm,  and  (if  we 
read  eye  with  the  quartos)  by  the  rhyme  also."  All  recent  editors  except 
H.  retain  them  in  the  text. 

Salerio  (iii.  3.  214). — It  is  not  strange  that  the  similarity  in  the  names 
Salarino,  Salanio,  and  Salerio  caused  some  confusion  in  the  prefixes  to 
the  speeches  in  the  early  eds.  and  also  here  and  there  in  the  text ;  but 
the  modern  editors  have  made  deliberate  alterations  that  are  less  excusa- 
ble than  these  slips  of  the  old  printers.  Several  of  them  have  changed 
Salanio  to  "  Solanio,"  though  the  former  is  the  prevailing  form  in  both 
quartos  and  folios;  and  K.  (followed  by  D.,  H.,  and  others)  assumes 
that  Salerio  is  a  misprint  for  "  Solanio."  It  happens,  however,  that  this 
name  is  given  with  singular  uniformity  in  the  early  eds.  ;  and,  as  W. 
remarks,  "  the  style  of  Salerio's  speech-  shows  that  he  is  a  person  of  infe- 
rior rank  to  Salarino  and  Salanio."  No  doubt  some  critic  would  be  making 
these  latter  two  gentlemen  one,  if  they  did  not  several  times  appear  on 
the  stage  together.  Furness  thinks  that  the  limited  number  of  actors  in 
the  old  theatres  would  prevent  the  introduction  of  a  new  character  here  ; 
but  this  play  has  fewer  characters  than  the  average,  even  if  we  add  Salerio. 


1 68  ADDENDA. 

SILVAYN'S  "ORATOR"  (p.  12).— The  95th  Declamation  of  The  Orator 
is  headed  "  Of  a  Jew,  -who  would  for  his  debt  haite  a  pound  of  the  flesh 
of  a  Christian"  and  reads  as  follows:  "A  lew,  vnto  whom  a  Christian 
Marchant  ought  nine  hundred  crownes,  would  haue  summoned  him  for  the 
same  in  Turckie:  the  Merchant  because  lie  would  not  be  discredited,  prom- 
ised to  pay  the  said  sutnme  within  the  tearme  of  three  months,  and  if  he 
paied  it  not,  he  was  bound  to  giue  him  a  pound  of  the  flesh  of  his  bodie. 
7^he  tearme  being  past  some  fifteene  dates,  the  lew  refused  to  take  his  money, 
and  demaunded  the  pound  of  flesh :  the  ordinarie  fudge  of  that  place  ap- 
pointed him  to  cut  a  iust  pound  of  the  Christians  flesh,  and  if  he  cut  either 
more  or  lesse,  then  his  owne  head  should  be  smitten  off:  the  lew  appealed 
from  this  sentence,  vnto  the  chief e  iudge,  saying: 

Impossible  is  it  to  breake  the  credite  of  trafficke  amongst  men  without 
great  detriment  vnto  the  Commonwealth  :  wherfore  no  man  ought  to 
bind  himselfe  vnto  such  couenants  which  hee  cannot  or  wil  not  accom- 
plish, for  by  that  means  should  no  man  feare  to  be  deceaued,  and  credit 
being  maintained,  euery  man  might  be  assured  of  his  owne  ;  but  since 
deceit  hath  taken  place,  neuer  wonder  if  obligations  are  made  more  rig- 
orous and  strict  then  they  were  wont,  seeing  that  although  the  bonds  are 
made  neuer  so  strong,  yet  can  no  man  be  very  certaine  that  he  shal  not 
be  a  loser.  It  seemeth  at  the  first  sight,  that  it  is  a  thing  no  lesse  strange 
then  cruel,  to  bind  a  man  to  pay  a  pound  of  the  flesh  of  his  bodie,  for 
want  of  money :  Surely,  in  that  it  is  a  thing  not  vsuall,  it  appeareth  to 
be  somewhat  the  more  admirable,  but  there  are  diuers  others  that  are 
more  cruell,  which  because  they  are  in  vse  seeme  nothing  terrible  at  all : 
as  to  binde  al  the  bodie  vnto  a  most  lothsome  prison,  or  vnto  an  intol- 
lerable  slauerie,  where  not  only  the  whole  bodie  but  also  al  the  sences  and 
spirits  are  tormented,  the  which  is  commonly  practised,  not  only  betwixt 
those  which  are  either  in  sect  or  Nation  contrary,  but  also  euen  amongst 
those  that  are  all  of  one  sect  and  nation,  yea  amongst  neighbours  and 
kindred,  and  euen  amongst  Christians  it  hath  ben  scene,  that  the  son 
hath  imprisoned  the  father  for  monie.  Likewise  in  the  Roman  Com- 
monwealth, so  famous  for  laws  and  armes,  it  was  lawfull  for  debt,  to  im- 
prison, beat,  and  afflict  with  torments  the  free  Citizens  :  How  manie 
of  them  (do  you  thinke)  would  haue  thought  themselues  happie,  if  for  a 
small  debt  they  might  haue  ben  excused  with  the  paiment  of  a  pound 
of  their  flesh  ?  Who  ought  then  to  maruile  if  a  lew  requireth  so 
small  a  thing  of  a  Christian,  to  discharge  him  of  a  good  round  summe? 
A  man  may  aske  why  I  would  not  rather  take  siluer  of  this  man,  then 
his  flesh  :  I  might  alleage  many  reasons,  for  I  might  say  that  none  but 
my  selfe  can  tell  what  the  breach  of  his  promise  hath  cost  me,  and  what 
I  haue  thereby  paied  for  want  of  money  vnto  my  creditors,  of  that  which 
I  haue  lost  in  my  credit :  for  the  miserie  of  those  men  which  esteeme 
their  reputation,  is  so  great,  that' oftentimes  they  had  rather  indure  any 
thing  secretlie  then  to  haue  their  discredit  blazed  abroad,  because  they 
would  not  be  both  shamed  and  harmed.  Neverthelesse,  I  doe  freely 
confesse,  that  I  had  rather  lose  a  pound  of  my  flesh,  then  my  credit 
should  be  in  any  sort  cracked  :  I  might  also  say  that  I  haue  need  of 
this  flesh  to  cure  a  friend  of  mine  of  a  certaine  maladie,  which  is  other- 
wise incurable,  or  that  I  would  haue  it  to  terrific  thereby  the  Christians 


ADDENDA.  169 

for  euer  abusing  the  lewes  anie  more  hereafter :  but  I  will  onelie  say, 
that  by  his  obligation  he  oweth  it  me.  It  is  lawfull  to  kill  a  souldior  if 
he  come  vnto  the  warres  but  an  houre  too  late,  and  also  to  hang  a  theefe 
though  he  steale  neuer  so  little  :  is  it  then  such  a  great  matter  to  cause 
such  a  one  to  pay  a  pound  of  his  flesh,  that  hath  broken  his  promise 
manie  times,  or  that  putteth  another  in  danger  to  lose  both  credit  and 
reputation,  yea  and  it  may  be  life  and  al  for  greife  ?  were  it  not  better 
for  him  to  lose  that  which  I  demand,  then  his  soule,  alreadie  bound  by  his 
faith  ?  Neither  am  I  to  take  that  which  he  oweth  me,  but  he  is  to  de- 
liuer  it  me :  And  especiallie  because  no  man  knoweth  better  then  he 
where  the  same  may  be  spared  to  the  least  hurt  of  his  person,  for  I 
might  take  it  in  such  a  place  as  hee  might  thereby  happen  to  lose  his 
life  :  what  a  matter  were  it  then,  if  I  should  cut  of  his  [head],  supposing 
that  the  same  would  .  .  .  weigh  a  iust  pound  ? .  .  .  Should  I  be  suffered 
to  cut  it  off,  although  it  were  with  the  danger  of  mine  owne  life?  I  be- 
leeue  I  should  not ;  because  there  were  as  little  reason  therein,  as  there 
could  be  in  the  amends  whereunto  I  should  be  bound;  or  els  if  I  would 
cut  off  his  nose,  his  lips,  his  eares,  and  pull  out  his  eies,  to  make  of  them 
altogether  a  pound,  should  I  be  suffered  ?  Surely  I  thinke  not,  because 
the  obligation  dooth  not  specific  that  I  ought  either  to  chuse,  cut,  or 
take  the  same,  but  that  he  ought  to  giue  me  a  pound  of  his  flesh.  Of 
euery  thing  that  is  sold,  he  which  deliuereth  the  same  is  to  make  waight, 
and  he  which  receiueth,  taketh  heed  that  it  be  iust :  seeing  then  that 
neither  the  obligation,  custome,  nor  law  doth  bind  me  to  cut,  or  weigh, 
much  lesse  vnto  the  aboue  mentioned  satisfaction,  I  refuse  it  all,  and 
require  that  the  same  which  is  due  should  bee  deliuered  vnto  me." 

"  The  Christians  Answere,"  which  follows,  is  about  as  long  as  the  Jew's 
plea,  but  contains  nothing  that  bears  any  particular  resemblance  to  Shake- 
peare's  text. 

LIST  OF  CHARACTERS  IN  THE  PLAY,  WITH  THE  SCENES  IN  WHICH 
THEY  APPEAR. — The  numbers  in  parentheses  indicate  the  lines  the 
characters  have  in  each  scene. 

Duke  of  Venice:  iv.  1(57).     Whole  no.  57. 

Prince  of  Morocco  :  ii.  1(32),  7(71).     Whole  no.  103. 

Prince  of  Arragon  :  ii.  9(66).      Whole  no.  66. 

Antonio :  i.  1(46),  3(39);  ii.  6(6);  iii.  3(19);  iv.  1(66) ;  v.  1(12).  Who'.e 
no.  188. 

Bassanio :  i.  1(51),  3(16);  ii.  2(38);  iii.  2(144);  iv.  1(50);  v.  1(42). 
Whole  no.  341. 

Salanio :  i.  i(n);  ii.  4(3),  8(21);  iii.  1(24).     Whole  no.  59. 

Salarino :  i.  1(41)  ;  ii.  4(3),  6(5),  8(34)  ;  iii.  1(22),  3(4).  Whole  no. 
109. 

Gratiano:  i.  1(34);  ii.  2(18),  4(3),  6(20);  iii.  2(31);  iv.  1(33),  2(5); 
v.  1(34).  Whole  no.  178. 

Lorenzo:  i.  1(6) ;  ii.  4(27),  6(21);  iii.  2(5),  4(12),  5(34)  ;  v.  1(76). 
Whole  no.  181. 

Shylock :  i.  3(134);  ii.  5(39);  iii.  1(72),  3(16);  iv.  1(103).  Whole 
no.  364. 

Tubal:  iii.  1(16).     Whole  no.  16. 


170 


ADDENDA. 


L.auncelot :  ii.  2(120),  3(5),  4(6),  5(15);  iii.  5(35);  v.  1(7).  Whole 
no.  1 88. 

Old  Gobbo :  ii.  2(41).     Whole  no.  41. 

Salerio:  iii.  2(20);  iv.  1(4).     Whole  no.  24. 

Leonardo  :  ii.  2(2).     Whole  no.  2. 

Balthazar:  iii.  4(1).     Whole  no.  I. 

Stephana :  \.  1(8).     Whole  no.  8. 

Servant:  i.  2(5)  ;  ii.  9(11)  ;  iii.  1(2).      Whole  no    18. 

Musician  :  iii.  2(9).      Whole  no.  g. 

Portia:  i.  2(96);  ii.  1(17),  7(9),  9(20);  iii.  2(118),  4(71)  ;  iv.  1(138), 
2(12);  v.  1(108).  Whole  no.  589. 

Nerissa:  i.  2(46);  ii.  9(6);  iii.  2(5),  4(2);  iv.  1(22),  2(4);  v.  1(25). 
Whole  no.  no. 

Jessica:  ii.  3(16),  5(4),  6(18)  ;  iii.  2(7),  4(1),  5(29)  ;  v.  1(14).  Whole 
no.  89. 

"All":  iii.  2(1).     Whole  no.  I. 

In  the  above  enumeration,  parts  of  lines  are  counted  as  whole  lines, 
making  the  total  in  the  play  greater  than  it  is.  The  actual  number  of 
lines  in  each  scene  (Globe  edition  numbering)  is  as  follows ;  i.  1(186), 
2(147),  3083);  ii-  i(46),  2(215),  3(2i),  4(40),  5(57),  6(68),  7(79),  8(53), 
9(101);  iii.  1(136),  2(330),  3(36),  4(84),  5(96);  iv.  1(458),  2(19);  v. 
1(307).  Whole  no.  in  the  play,  2662. 


INDEX   OF  WORDS  AND    PHRASES 
EXPLAINED. 


a  (capering,  etc.),  132,  140. 

bestow,  140. 

contrive  (=plot),  160. 

a'  (=he),  139. 

best-regarded,  137. 

conveniency,  157. 

a  many,  155. 

bid  forth,  142. 

convenient,  145,  154. 

abide  (=bear),  157. 

Black-Monday,  142. 

cope,  160. 

accomplished,  154. 

blest  or  cursed'st,  138. 

could  not  do  withal,  154. 

achieve,  151. 

bonnet,  132. 

counterfeit,  150. 

address,  145. 

bottom,  128. 

county  (=count),  131. 

advice,  16  1. 

brave,  154. 

courtesy,  128. 

advised,  130. 

break  his  day,  136. 

cousin,  154. 

advisedly,  165. 

break  up  (  =  break  open  ), 

cover,  146,  155. 

afeard,  144. 

141. 

crisped,  149. 

agitation  (=cogitation),  155. 

breed  of  barren  metal,  136, 

current,  157. 

alablaster,  129. 

167. 

curtsy,  128. 

alas  the  while  !  137. 

Brutus   Portia,  131. 

Alcides,  138,  148. 

by  (=about),  132,  146. 

danger,  158. 

aleven,  140. 

Danielcome  tojudgment,  i  so- 

alien  (trisyllable),  160. 

came  by  it,  127. 

Dardanian  wives,  148. 

all  my  whole,  154. 

can,  133. 

deny.  152. 

an  (=if),  131. 

carrion  (in  contempt),  156. 

description  (quadrisyllable), 

and  (=an),  131. 

carrion  death,  145. 

'52- 

and  so  following,  134. 

cater-cousin,  139,  167. 

desire  you  of  pardon,  160. 

Andrew,  128. 

cere-cloth,  144. 

determine,  157. 

angel  (coin),  144. 

ceremony,  165. 

Dido,  161. 

apparent,  156. 

Charybdis,  155. 

disable,  144.       . 

appropriation,  131. 

charge  upon  interrogatories, 

discharge,  151,  159. 

approve  (=prove),  149. 

165. 

discretion,  155. 

argosy,  127. 

cheer,  152,  155,  157. 

distinct  (accent),  146. 

as  (omitted),  152. 

cherubin,  162. 

do,  127. 

as  who  should  say,  129. 

childhood  proof,  130. 

do  we  so,  145. 

aspect  (accent),  128,  137. 

circumstance,  130. 

doit,  136. 

at  full,  165. 

civil  doctor,  165. 

doth,  151. 

attempt  (=tempt),  160, 

close  (=secret),  143. 

doublet,  132. 

attended,  163. 

commandement,  160. 

ducat,  133. 

avail  (avale),  128. 

commends  (noun),  146. 

dull-eyed,  152. 

aweary,  131. 

commodity,  131,  152. 

dwell,  136. 

companion  (contemptuous), 

balance  (plural),  159. 

'53- 

eanling,  135. 

Barrabas,  160. 

complexion  (quadrisyllable), 

Endymion,  163. 

bate,  153. 

i37- 

enow,  155. 

be  (=are),  134,  144,  160. 

compromised,  135. 

envious,  151. 

be  friends  with,  136. 

conceit,  129,  153. 

envy,  151,  156. 

bechanced,  128. 

condition,  133. 

Erebus,  163. 

beefs,  136. 

confiscate  (participle),  160. 

estate,  146,  151. 

beest,  144. 

confound,  151. 

exceeding  (adverb),  128. 

beholding  (=beholden),  135. 

constant,  151. 

excess,  135. 

beshrew,  143,  148. 

contain,  164. 

exclaim  on,  150. 

best  -  conditioned    and    un- 

contemplation (metre),  153. 

excrement,  149. 

wearied,  152. 

continent,  150. 

exhibit,  141. 

172     INDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES  EXPLAINED. 


fair  (play  upon),  137. 

I  wis,  146. 

more  elder,  159. 

faithless,  141. 

if  that,  143,  151. 

music  (=musicians),  162. 

fall  (transitive),  135. 

impeach  the  freedom  of  the 

muttons,  136. 

fancy  (=love),  148. 

state,  151. 

mutual,  163. 

father,  139. 

imposition,  132,  15;,. 

myself  (subject),  137. 

fear,  137,  154,  165. 

in  (=go  in),  140. 

fearful,  137. 

in  (=mto),  162. 

narrow  seas,  145. 

fillupC^fulfil^isS. 

in  all  sense,  164. 

naughty,  152. 

fill-horse,  139. 

in  supposition,  134. 

needs,  133,  141,  159. 

find  forth,  130. 

incarnation,  138. 

Nestor,  128. 

fire  (dissyllable',  146. 

Indian  beauty,  149. 

nice,  137. 

flight  (of  arrow),  130. 

insculped,  144. 

no  impediment  to  let   him 

follow  (=insist  upon),  159. 
fond,  146,  152. 

interest,  134. 
intermission  (metre),  151. 

lack,  158. 
nor  (double  negative),   131, 

fool  (adjective),  130,  146. 

inter'gatories,  165. 

138. 

fool-gudgeon,  129. 

nothing  undervalued,  131. 

for  (=because),  134. 

Jacks,  !54. 

forfeit,  152. 

Jacob's  staff,  142. 

obdurate  (accent),  145. 

forth,  128,  130,  142. 

Janus,  128. 

obliged,  142. 

fraught,  14;. 

ewess,  142. 

obscure  (accent),  144. 

from  (=away  from),  150. 

judgment,  157. 

occasion,  130.  155. 

jump,  146. 

ocean  (trisylhbfe),  127. 

gaberdine,  135. 

o'erlooked,  148. 

gaged,  130. 

keep  (=dwell),  152. 

o'er-stare,  137. 

gaping  pig,  157. 

knap,  147. 

of  (=about),  135,  165. 

garnished,  155. 

knave,  137. 

of  (=by,  with),  141. 

S:ar,  130,  140. 

of  (=for),  142. 

entile  (play  upon),  143,  156. 

leave  (=part  with),  164. 

of  (omitted),  130,  160. 

glister,  145. 

level  at,  131. 

offeree,  160. 

go  give,  158. 

liberal,  140. 

old  (intensive),  161. 

go  hard,  148. 
go  to,  136. 

Lichas,  138. 
light  (play  upon)  149,  164. 

on  your  charge,  159. 
on  :t,  143. 

go  we  in,  162. 

like  (=likely),  144. 

opinion  (quadrisyllable),  127, 

God  bless  the  mark  !   138. 

likely,  147. 

'55- 

God's  sonties,  139. 

liver,  129,  149. 

opinion  of  wisdom,  129. 

good,  133. 

living,  150,  165. 

Orpheus,  163. 

good  sweet,  155. 

lodged,  156. 

ostent,  141,  145. 

Goodwins,  147. 

loose,  156. 

other  (plural),  128. 

gramercy,  139. 

love  (=lover),  159. 

overpeer,  127. 

gratify,  160. 

lover,  153. 

over-weathered,  143. 

gree,  139. 

guard  (=trim),  140. 

magnificoes,  151. 

Padua,  153. 

gudgeon,  129. 

main,  157. 

pageant,  127. 

guiled,  149. 

manage  (noun),  153. 

pain  (=pains),  140. 

marry,  138. 

parcel,  133. 

had  better,  132. 

martlet,  146. 

part  (=depart),  145. 

had  rather  to,  132. 

master  (as  title),  167. 

parts,  157. 

hair  (dissyllable),  152. 

masters  of  passion,  157. 

passion,  145,  157. 

hairs,  150. 

match,  147. 

patch,  142. 

hangman,  157. 

may,  133. 

patine,  162. 

hard  food  for  Midas,  149. 

me  (expletive),  135,  139. 

pawned,  155. 

hear  thee,  140. 

Medea,  161. 

peep  through  their  eyes,  128. 

high-day,  147. 

mere,  151. 

peize,  148. 

his  (=its),  162. 

methought,  135. 

persuaded  with,  151. 

hit,  151. 

Midas,  149. 

pied,  135. 

hood,  143. 

mincing,  154. 

pilled,  135. 

hose  (round),  132. 

mind  of  love,  145- 

play  the  fool,  129. 

hour  (dissyllable),  146. 
husbandry,  153. 

misbeliever,  135. 
miscarried,  165. 

please  (impersonal),  134,  136. 
pleasure  (verb),  133. 

Hyrcanian,  144. 

misery  (accent),  159. 

poesy,  164. 

mislike,  137. 

port,  130,  151. 

I  (=me),  152. 

moe,  130,  143. 

Portia,  131. 

I  were  best,  164. 

moiety,  156. 

possess,  135,  156. 

INDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES  EXPLAINED.     173 


post,  147. 

so  ...  as,  133. 

undertook,  141. 

posy,  164. 

so  (=if  ),  150. 

undervalued,  130,  144. 

prefer,  140. 

so  (omitted),  154. 

unhandled  colts,  163. 

presence,  148. 

so  (=so  be  it),  136. 

unthrift,  162. 

presently,  131. 

sola,  162. 

untread  again,  143. 

prest,  130. 

something  (adverb),  130. 

upon  more  advice,  161. 

prevent,  128. 

sometime,  130. 

upon  my  power,  157. 

prize  (=contest),  150. 
producing  holy  witness,  135. 

sometimes,  130. 
sonties,  139. 

upon  supposed  fairness,  149. 
upon  the  hip,  134,  160. 

proof,  130. 

sooth,  127. 

urge,  165. 

proper,  132. 

soothsayer,  127. 

usance,  134. 

provided  of,  141. 

Sophy,  137. 

use,  159,  160. 

pursue  (accent),  160. 

sort  (=  dispose),  164. 

usury,  134. 

Pythagoras,  158. 

sort  (noun),  132. 

soul  (play  upon),  157. 

vail,  128. 

quaint,  141,  154. 

speak  me  fair,  159. 

vantage.  150. 

quarrelling  with  occasion,!  55. 

sped,  146. 

vasty,  144. 

question,  156. 

spet,  135. 

venture,  128. 

quicken  his  embraced  heavi- 

spirit (monosyllable),  140. 

Venus'  pigeons,  142. 

ness,  145. 

spoke  (=spoken),  150. 

very  (adjective),  151,  159. 

spoke  us  of,  141. 

via!  138. 

rath,  132. 

squander,  134. 

vild  (  =  vile),  132. 

rather,  132. 

starve,  158. 

vinegar  aspect,  128. 

raw,  154. 

state,  151. 

virtue,  164. 

reason  (—converse),  145. 

stead,  133. 

regreet,  146. 

Stephano  (accent),  162. 

waft  (=wafted),  161. 

remorse,  156. 

sterve,  158. 

waste,  153. 

reproach  (play  upon),  142. 

still,  128,  130,  149,  159. 

wealth,  165. 

respect,  129,  163. 

studied  in  a  fair  ostent,  141. 

weeping  philosopher,  132. 

respective,  164. 

substance  (=  amount),  160. 

what  (=what  a),  141. 

rest  (set  up  one's),  139. 

success,  151. 

what  (of  impatience),  141. 

rest  you  fair,  135. 

suited,  132,  155. 

where  (=whereas),  156. 

Rialto,  134. 

Sultan  Solyman,  137. 

which  (omitted),  131. 

richly  left,  130,  165. 

sum  of  nothing,  150. 

which  (the),  133,  153. 

ripe,  135. 

swan-like  end,  148. 

which  (=who),  144,  163. 

npmg,  145. 

sweet,  155. 

whiles,  133. 

road,  165. 

swelling  port,  130. 

who  (omitted1,  129,  156. 

royal  merchant,  156. 

who  (=which),  144,  158. 

ruin  (=fefuse),  146. 

table  (of  the  hand),  140. 

who  (=whom),  131,  143. 

running  with  thy  heels,  138. 

teaches  (plural),  136. 

who    (with    supplementary 

that  (with  conj.),  143,  zee. 

pronoun),  136. 

Sabaoth  (=  Sabbath),  156.       '•  the  which,  133",  153. 

why,  so,  148. 

Salerio,  167. 

thee  (=thou),  140. 

wilful  stillness,  129. 

sand-blind,  138,  167. 

then  (=than),  131. 

will,  142. 

scant,  137. 

therefore  (position  of),  129. 

will  (verb  omitted),  141,  150. 

scape,  151. 

this  (=all  this),  128. 

wit,  137. 

scrubbed,  164. 

thorough  (=through),  144. 

with  all  my  heart  (play  upon) 

Scylla,  155. 

through  fare,  144. 

160. 

sealed  under  for  another,  132. 

throughly.  144,  158. 

with  imagined  speed,  154. 

season,  158. 

thrift,  131. 

within  his  danger,  158. 

seasoned,  149. 

throstle,  132. 

within  the  eye  of  honour,  130. 

self  (adjective),  130. 

to-night  (=last  night),  142. 

wives  (=women),  148. 

sensible,  145,  146. 

too-too,  143. 

would,  134. 

shall  (=will),  130,  151. 

tranect,  154. 

wracked,  147. 

should,  130,  132,  151. 

Tripolis,  134. 

writ,  141 

show  (=appear),  158. 

tricksy,  155. 

wroth,  146. 

shows  (  —  represents),  158. 

Troilus,  161. 

wry-necked  fife,  142. 

shrewd,  151. 

truth  (=honesty),  159. 

Sibylla,  133. 

tucket,  163. 

yeanling,  135. 

sisters  three,  139. 

turquoise,  148. 

yet  (with  negative),  146. 

skipping  spirit,  140. 

youn«er  (  =  younker),  143. 

slubber,  145. 

uncapable,  155. 

yours  (dissyllable),  148. 

smug,  147. 

underta  en,  141. 

ywis,  146. 

ANNE    HATHAWAV'S   COTTAGE    AT   SHOTTERY. 


SHAKESPEARE. 


WITH    NOTES    BY   WM.  J.   ROLFE,  Litt.B. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice. 
The  Tempest. 
Julius  Caesar. 
Hamlet. 

You  Like  It. 
Henry  the  Fifth. 
Macbeth. 

Henry  the  Eighth. 
A  Midsummer -Night's  Dream. 
Richard  the  Second. 
Richard  the  Third. 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing. 
Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
Romeo  and  Juliet. 
Othello. 

4- Twelfth  Night. 
The  Winter's  Tale. 
King  John. 
Henry  IV.     Part  I. 
Henry  IV.    Part  II. 


King  Lear. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

All's  Well  That  Ends  Well. 

Coriolanus. 

Comedy  of  Errors. 

Cymbeline. 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

Measure  for  Measure. 

Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

Love's  Labor  's  Lost. 

Timon  of  Athens. 

Henry  VI.    Part  I. 

Henry  VI.    Part  II. 

Henry  VI.    Part  III. 

Troilus  and  Cressida. 

Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 

Poems. 

Sonnets. 

Titus  Andronicus. 


Illustrated.    i6mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  vol. ;  Paper,  36  cents  per  vol. 
FRIENDLY  EDITION,  compl.  in  20  vols.,  i6mo,  Cloth, $25  oo;  Half 
Leather,  $35  oo ;  Half  Calf,  $50  oo ;  Sheets,  $22  oo.    Soldonlv  in  Sets. 


In  the  preparation  of  this  edition  of  the  English  Classics  it  has  been 
the  aim  to  adapt  them  for  school  and  home  reading,  in  essentially  the 
same  way  as  Greek  and  Latin  Classics  are  edited  for  educational  pur- 
poses. The  chief  requisites  are  a  pure  text  (expurgated,  if  necessary), 
and  the  notes  needed  for  its  thorough  explanation  and  illustration. 

Each  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  complete  in  one  volume,  and  is  pre- 
ceded by  an  Introduction  containing  the  "  History  of  the  Play,"  the 
"Sources  of  the  Plot,"  and  "  Critical  Comments  on  the  Play." 

From  HORACE  HOWARD  FURNESS,  Ph.D.,  LL.D.,  Editor  of  the  "New 
Variorum  Shakespeare." 

No  one  can  examine  these  volumes  and  fail  to  be  impressed  with  the 
conscientious  accuracy  and  scholarly  completeness  with  which  they  are 
edited.  The  educational  purposes  for  which  the  notes  are  written  Mr. 
Rolfe  never  loses  sight  of,  but  like  "a  well-experienced  archer  hits  the 
mark  his  eye  doth  level  at." 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare, 


From  F.  J.  FURNIVALL,  Director  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society,  London. 

The  merit  I  see  in  Mr.  Rolfe's  school  editions  of  Shakspere's  Plays 
over  those  most  widely  used  in  England  is  that  Mr.  Rolfe  edits  the  plays 
as  works  of  a  poet,  and  not  only  as  productions  in  Tudor  English.  Some 
editors  think  that  all  they  have  to  do  with  a  play  is  to  state  its  source 
and  explain  its  hard  words  and  allusions  ;  they  treat  it  as  they  would  a 
charter  or  a  catalogue  of  household  furniture,  and  then  rest  satisfied. 
But  Mr.  Rolfe,  while  clearing  up  all  verbal  difficulties  as  carefully  as  any 
Dryasdust,  always  adds  the  choicest  extracts  he  can  find,  on  the  spirit 
and  special  "  note  "  of  each  play,  and  on  the  leading  characteristics  of  its 
chief  personages.  He  does  not  leave  the  student  without  help  in  getting 
at  Shakspere's  chief  attributes,  his  characterization  and  poetic  power. 
And  every  practical  teacher  knows  that  while  every  boy  can  look  out 
hard  words  in  a  lexicon  for  himself,  not  one  in  a  score  can,  unhelped, 
catch  points  of  and  realize  character,  and  feel  and  express  the  distinctive 
individuality  of  each  play  as  a  poetic  creation. 

From  Prof.  EDWARD  DOWDEN,  LL.D.,  of  the  University  of  Dublin, 
Author  of  " Shakspere  :  His  Mind  and  Art." 

I  incline  to  think  that  no  edition  is  likely  to  be  so  useful  for  school 
and  home  reading  as  yours.  Your  notes  contain  so  much  accurate  in- 
struction, with  so  little  that  is  superfluous  ;  you  do  not  neglect  the  aes- 
thetic study  of  the  plays ;  and  in  externals,  paper,  type,  binding,  etc. ,  you 
make  a  book  "  pleasant  to  the  eye  "  (as  well  as  "to  be  desired  to  make 
one  wise  ") — no  small  matter,  I  think,  with  young  readers  and  with  old. 

From  EDWIN  A.  ABBOTT,  M.A.,  Author  of  "Shakespearian  Grammar." 

I  have  not  seen  any  edition  that  compresses  so  much  necessary  infor- 
mation into  so  small  a  space,  nor  any  that  so  completely  avoids  the 
common  faults  of 'commentaries  on  Shakespeare — needless  repetition, 
superfluous  explanation,  and  unscholar-like  ignoring  of  difficulties. 

From  HIRAM  CORSON,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  English 
Literature,  Cornell  University,  Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

In  the  way  of  annotated  editions  of  separate  plays  of  Shakespeare  for 
educational  purposes,  I  know  of  none  quite  up  to  Rolfe's. 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare 


From  Prof.  F.  J.  CHILD,  of  Harvard  University. 

I  read  your  "  Merchant  of  Venice  "  with  my  class,  and  found  it  in 
every  respect  an  excellent  edition.  I  do  not  agree  with  my  friend  White 
in  the  opinion  that  Shakespeare  requires  but  few  notes — that  is,  if  he  is 
to  be  thoroughly  understood.  Doubtless  he  may  be  enjoyed,  and  many 
a  hard  place  slid  over.  Your  notes  give  all  the  help  a  young  student 
requires,  and  yet  the  reader  for  pleasure  will  easily  get  at  just  what  he 
wants.  You  have  indeed  been  conscientiously  concise. 

Under  date  of  July  25,  1879,  Prof.  CHILD  adds  :  Mr.  Rolfe's  editions 
of  plays  of  Shakespeare  are  very  valuable  and  convenient  books,  whether 
for  a  college  class  or  for  private  study.  I  have  used  them  with  my 
students,  and  I  welcome  every  addition  that  is  made  to  the  series.  They 
show  care,  research,  and  good  judgment,  and  are  fully  up  to  the  time  in 
scholarship.  I  fully  agree  with  the  opinion  that  experienced  teachers 
have  expressed  of  the  excellence  of  these  books. 


From  Rev.  A.  P.  PEABODY,  D.D.,  Professor  in  Haniard  University. 

I  regard  your  own  work  as  of  the  highest  merit,  while  you  have  turned 
the  labors  of  others  to  the  best  possible  account.  I  want  to  have  the 
higher  classes  of  our  schools  introduced  to  Shakespeare  chief  of  all,  and 
then  to  other  standard  English  authors  ;  but  this  cannot  be  done  to 
advantage  unless  under  a  teacher  of  equally  rare  gifts  and  abundant 
leisure,  or  through  editions  specially  prepared  for  such  use.  I  trust  that 
you  will  have  the  requisite  encouragement  to  proceed  with  a  work  so 
happily  begun. 


From  the  Examiner  and  Chronicle,  N.  Y. 

We  repeat  what  we  have  often  said,  that  there  is  no  edition  of  Shake- 
speare which  seems  to  us  preferable  to  Mr.  Rolfe's.  As  mere  specimens 
of  the  printer's  and  binder's  art  they  are  unexcelled,  and  their  othei 
merits  are  equally  high.  Mr.  Rolfe,  having  learned  by  the  practical 
experience  of  the  class-room  what  aid  the  average  student  really  needs 
in  order  to  read  Shakespeare  intelligently,  has  put  just  that  amount  of 
aid  into  his  notes,  and  no  more.  Having  said  what  needs  to  be  said,  he 
stops  there.  It  is  a  rare  virtue  in  the  editor  of  a  classic,  and  we  are 
proportionately  grateful  for  it. 


Rolfe's  Shakespeare. 


From  the  N.    Y.   Times. 

This  work  has  been  done  so  well  that  it  could  hardly  have  been  done 
better.  It  shows  throughout  knowledge,  taste,  discriminating  judgment, 
and,  what  is  rarer  and  of  yet  higher  value,  a  sympathetic  appreciation 
of  the  poet's  moods  and  purposes. 

From  the  Pacific  School  Journal,  San  Francisco. 

This  edition  of  Shakespeare's  plays  bids  fair  to  be  the  most  valuable 
aid  to  the  study  of  English  literature  yet  published.  For  educational 
purposes  it  is  beyond  praise.  Each  of  the  plays  is  printed  in  large  clear 
type  and  on  excellent  paper.  Every  difficulty  of  the  text  is  clearly  ex- 
plained by  copious  notes.  It  is  remarkable  how  many  new  beauties  one 
may  discern  in  Shakespeare  with  the  aid  of  the  glossaries  attached  to 
these  books.  .  .  .  Teachers  can  do  no  higher,  better  work  than  to  incul- 
cate a  love  for  the  best  literature,  and  such  books  as  these  will  best  aid 
them  in  cultivating  a  pure  and  refined  taste. 

From  the  Christian   Union,  N.    V. 

Mr.  W  J.  Rolfe's  capital  edition  of  Shakespeare  ...  by  far  the  best 
edition  for  school  and  parlor  use.  We  speak  after  some  practical  use  of 
it  in  a  village  Shakespeare  Club.  The  notes  are  brief  but  useful  ;  and 
the  necessary  expurgations  are  managed  with  discriminating  skill. 

From  the  Academy,  London. 

Mr.  Rolfe's  excellent  series  of  school  editions  of  the  Plays  of  Shake- 
speare. .  .  They  differ  from  some  of  the  English  ones  in  looking  on  the 
plays  as  something  more  than  word -puzzles.  They  give  the  student 
helps  and  hints  on  the  characters  and  meanings  of  the  plays,  while  the 
word-notes  are  also  full  and  posted  up  to  the  latest  date.  .  .  .  Mr.  Rolfe 
also  adds  to  each  of  his  books  a  most  useful  "Index  of  Words  and 
Phrases  Explained." 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

^*  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  they  will  be  sent  by  HARPER 
&  BROTHERS  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  price  as  quoted.  If  ordered  sent  by 
mail,  10  per  cent,  should  be  added  to  the  price  to  cover  cost  of  postage. 


THOMAS  GRAY. 

SELECT  POEMS  OF  THOMAS  GRAY.  Edited,  with 
Notes,  by  WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE,  A.M.,  formerly  Head 
Master  of  the  High  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.  Illus- 
trated. Square  i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents;  Cloth,  56  cents 
(Uniform  with  Rolfe's  Shakespeare^) 


Mr.  Rolfe  has  done  his  work  in  a  manner  that  comes  as  near  to  per- 
fection as  man  can  approach.  He  knows  his  subject  so  well  that  he  is 
competent  to  instruct  all  in  it ;  and  readers  will  find  an  immense  amount 
of  knowledge  in  his  elegant  volume,  all  set  forth  in  the  most  admirable 
order,  and  breathing  the  most  liberal  and  enlightened  spirit,  he  being  a 
warm  appreciator  of  the  divinity  of  genius. — Boston  Traveller. 

The  great  merit  of  these  books  lies  in  their  carefully  edited  text,  and  in 
the  fulness  of  their  explanatory  notes.  Mr.  Rolfe  is  not  satisfied  with 
simply  expounding,  but  he  explores  the  entire  field  cf  English  literature, 
and  therefrom  gathers  a  multitude  of  illustrations  that  are  interesting  in 
themselves  and  valuable  as  a  commentary  on  the  text.  He  not  only  in- 
structs, but  stimulates  his  readers  to  fresh  exertion  ;  and  it  is  this  stimu- 
lation that  makes  his  labor  so  productive  in  the  school-room. — Saturday 
Evening  Gazette,  Boston. 

Mr.  William  J.  Rolfe,  to  whom  English  literature  is  largely  indebted 
for  annotated  and  richly  illustrated  editions  of  several  of  Shakespeare's 
Plays,  has  treated  the  "  Select  Poems  of  Thomas  Gray  "  in  the  same  way 
— just  as  he  had  previously  dealt  with  the  best  of  Goldsmith's  poems. — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

Mr.  Rolfe's  edition  of  Thomas  Gray's  select  poems  is  marked  by  the 
same  discriminating  taste  as  his  other  classics. — Springfield  Republican. 

Mr.  Rolfe's  rare  abilities  as  a  teacher  and  his  fine  scholarly  tastes  ena- 
ble him  to  prepare  a  classic  like  this  in  the  best  manner  for  school  use. 
There  could  be  no  better  exercise  for  the  advanced  classes  in  our  schools 
than  the  critical  study  of  our  best  authors,  and  the  volumes  that  Mr.  Rolfe 
has  prepared  will  hasten  the  time  when  the  study  of  mere  form  will  give 
place  to  the  study  of  the  spirit  of  our  literature. — Louisville  Courier* 
primal. 

n  elegant  and  scholarly  little  volume. — Christian  Intelligencer,  N.  Y 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

?""  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  they  will  be  sent  by  HARPHR 
'&  BROTHERS  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  price  -is  quoted.  If  ordered  sent  by 
mail,  ioj>er  cent,  should  be  added  to  the  price  to  cover  cost 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

SELECT  POEMS  OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  Edited, 
with  Notes,  by  WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE,  A.M.,  formerly  Head 
Master  of  the  High  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.  Illus- 
trated. i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents  :  Cloth,  56  cents.  (Uni 
form  with  Rolfe's  Shakespeare^) 


The  caretully  arranged  editions  of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  and 
other  of  Shakespeare's  plays  prepared  by  Mr.  William  J.  Rolfe  for  the 
use  of  students  will  be  remembered  with  pleasure  by  many  readers,  and 
they  will  welcome  another  volume  of  a  similar  character  from  the  same 
source,  in  the  form  of  the  "Select  Poems  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,"  edited 
with  notes  fuller  than  those  of  any  other  known  edition,  many  of  them 
original  with  the  editor. — Boston  Transcript. 

Mr.  Rolfe  is  doing  very  useful  work  in  the  preparation  of  compact 
hand-books  for  study  in  English  literature.  His  own  personal  culture 
and  his  long  experience  as  a  teacher  give  him  good  knowledge  of  what 
is  wanted  in  this  way. —  The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

Mr.  Rolfe  has  prefixed  to  the  Poems  selections  illustrative  of  Gold- 
smith's character  as  a  man,  and  grade  as  a  poet,  from  sketches  by  Ma- 
caulay,  Thackeray,  George  Cohnan,  Thomas  Campbell,  John  Forster, 
and  Washington  Irving.  He  has  also  appended  at  the  end  of  the 
volume  a  body  of  scholarly  notes  explaining  and  illustrating  the  poems, 
and  dealing  with  the  times  in  which  they  were  written,  as  well  as  the 
incidents  and  circumstances  attending  their  composition.  —  Christian 
Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 

The  notes  are  just  and  discriminating  in  tone,  and  supply  all  that  is 
necessary  either  for  understanding  the  thought  of  the  several  poems,  or 
fur  a  critical  study  of  the  language.  The  use  of  such  books  in  the  school- 
room cannot  but  contribute  largely  towards  putting  the  study  of  English 
literature  upon  a  sound  basis  ;  and  many  an  adult  reader  would  find  in 
the  present  volume  an  excellent  opportunity  for  becoming  critically  ac- 
quainted with  one  of  the  greatest  of  last  century's  poets. — Appleloiis 
j->urna!,  N.  Y. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

jp=  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  they  "will  be  sent  by  HARPER 
&  BROTHERS  to  any  address  on  receipt  of  price  as  quoted.  If  ordered  sent  by 
Mail,  10  per  cent,  should  be  added  to  the  price  to  cover  cost  of  postage. 


AFTERNOONS  WITH  THE  POETS. 

AFTERNOONS  WITH  THE  POETS.   By  C.  D.  DESHLER. 
Post  8vo,  Cloth,  $i  75. 


'  This  pleasing  work  is  made  up  of  citations  from  the  poets,  accom 
panied  wkh  easy  and  familiar  discussions  of  their  merits  and  peculiarl 
ties.  Seven  afternoons  are  thus  agreeably  occupied,  and  take  the  shap^- 
of  as  many  interesting  chapters.  The  participants  are  the  "  Professor" 
and  his  pupil,  who  are  represented  as  on  terms  of  the  utmost  intimacy, 
and  express  their  sentiments  to  each  other  with  perfect  freedom.  *  *  * 
Mr.  Deshler  has  happily  selected  the  sonnet,  and  confined  his  view  of 
the  poets  to  their  productions  in  this  single  species  of  verse.  *  *  *  The 
author's  extensive  research  has  been  accompanied  by  minute  scrutiny, 
faithful  comparison,  and  judicious  discrimination.  His  critical  observa- 
tions are  frank,  honest,  good-natured,  yet  just,  discreet,  comprehensive, 
and  full  of  instruction.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  volume  that  in  so 
small  a  compass  offers  equal  aid  for  the  cultivation  of  literary  taste,  and 
for  reaching  an  easy  acquaintance  with  all  the  great  poets  of  the  Eng- 
lish tongue.  The  style  is  pure  and  transparent,  and  though  colloquial 
in  form,  it  is  exceedingly  correct  and  elegant,  embodying  every  chaste 
adornment  of  which  language  is  capable. — Boston  Transcript. 

A  very  unconventional  and  pleasant  book. — N.  Y.  Herald. 

The  substance  of  the  book  is  decidedly  meritorious,  far  better  than 
most  of  the  criticism  published  in  these  days.  It  shows  careful  study, 
extensive  reading,  a  nice  taste  and  discrimination,  and  also  a  genuine 
appreciation  and  insight  which  are  rare. — N.  Y.  Evening  Express. 

A  volume  of  much  literary  interest,  and  is  very  pleasantly  written.*  *  * 
Mr.  Deshler's  discussions  of  literature  are  extremely  interesting.  *  *  *  It 
will  be  a  source  of  enjoyment  to  all  who  have  a  taste  for  poetry,  and  can 
appreciate  the  highest  triumphs  of  poetic  art  as  displayed  in  the  sonnet. 
—Hartford  Post. 

We  have  to  thank  Mr.  Deshler  for  a  collection  of  some  of  the  most 
exquisite  sonnets  in  the  English  language,  with  an  animated,  apprecia- 
tive, and  suggestive  comment  which  shows  a  fine  poetical  taste  and  is  an 
iat'eresting  and  instructive  guide  in  a  charming  field. — N.  Y.  Mail. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

f~  The  above  work  is  for  tale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  by  the  publishers, 
postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt 
of  price. 


ROBERT    BROWNING. 

SELECT  POEMS  OF  ROBERT  BROWNING.  Edited, 
with  Notes,  by  WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE,  A.M.,  formerly  Head 
Master  of  the  High  School,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  and  HEL- 
OISE  E.  HERSEY.  Illustrated.  i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents  : 
Cloth,  56  cents.  {Uniform  with  Rolfe's  Shakespeare^) 


Probably  no  critic  yet  has  gone  to  the  heart  of  Browning's  true  signifi- 
cance as  does  Miss  Hersey.  There  is  something  in  the  fineness  of  her 
insight  and  her  subtle,  spiritual  sympathy  that  truly  interprets  him,  while 
others  write  in  a  more  or  less  scholarly  manner  about  him.  Miss  Her- 
sey's  work  indicates  the  blending  of  two  exceptional  qualities — the  po- 
etic sympathy  and  the  critical  judgments.  She  feels  intuitively  all  the 
poet's  subtle  meanings  ;  she  is  responsible  to  them  by  virtue  of  temper- 
ament ;  yet  added  to  this  is  the  critical  faculty,  keen,  logical,  and  con- 
structive.— Boston  Traveller. 

To  say  that  the  selections  have  been  made  by  Mr.  Rolfe  is  to  say  that 
they  have  not  only  been  made  by  a  careful  and  accurate  scholar,  but  by 
a  man  of  pure  and  beautiful  taste.  .  .  .  The  Notes,  which  fill  some 
thirty  pages,  are  admirable  in  their  scope  and  brevity. — N.  Y.  Mail  and 
Express. 

We  can  conscientiously  say  that  both  the  arrangement  of  the  selec- 
tions and  the  fulness,  as  well  as  the  illuminating  character,  of  the  anno- 
tations are  all  that  the  most  exacting  taste  could  require ;  and  the  whole 
work  is  well  fitted  to  charm  the  poet's  established  admirers,  and  to 
awaken  in  others  who  have  not  been  among  these  a  new  sense  of 
Browning's  strength  and  beauty  as  a  writer. — Hartford  Times. 

The  "Select  Poems  of  Robert  Browning"  is  a  marvel  of  industrious 
editing,  wise,  choice,  and  excellent  judgment  in  comment.  .  .  .  An  intro- 
duction, a  brief  account  of  Browning's  life  and  works,  a  chronological 
table  of  his  works,  and  a  series  of  exti acted  critical  comments  on  the 
poet,  precede  the  series  of  selections.  Besides  these  there  are  at  the  end 
of  the  book  very  extensive,  valuable,  and  minutely  illustrative  notes,  to- 
gether with  addenda  supplied  by  Browning  himself  on  points  which  the 
editors  were  unable  fully  to  clear  up. — N.  Y.  St,ir. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

*  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  tliey  •will  be  sent  by  HARTER 
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ROBERT    BROWNING. 

A  BLOT  IN  THE  'SCUTCHEON  AND  OTHER  DRA- 
MAS. By  ROBERT  BROWNING.  Edited,  with  notes,  by 
WILLIAM  J.  ROLFE,  A.M.,  and  HELOISE  E.  HERSEY. 
With  Portrait.  i6mo,  Paper,  40  cents  ;  Cloth,  56  cents. 
(  Uniform  with  Rolfe  's  Shakespeare. ) 


Prepared  in  the  same  thorough  manner  as  the  previous  volume  upon 
the  Select  Poems  of  the  same  author  and  the  numerous  manuals  of  Mr. 
Rolfe.  No  poet  needs,  for  the  average  reader,  such  an  'interpretation 
as  is  here  given  more  than  Browning.  Read  carefully,  with  reference  to 
the  notes  of  the  editors,  the  richness  of  the  great  poet's  thoughts  and 
fancies  will  he  the  better  apprehended.  — Zwii's  Herald,  Boston. 

Out  of  the  eight  dramas  which  the  poet  wrote  between  1837  and  1845 
the  three  most  characteristic  ones  have  been  selected,  and  a  full  idea  of 
his  dramatic  power  may  be  gained  from  them.  A  synopsis  of  critical 
opinions  of  Mr.  Browning's  works  is  included  in  the  volume.  The  same 
careful  scholarship  that  marked  Professor  Rolfe's  editions  of  Shakespeare 
is  shown  in  this  edition  of  Browning.  The  lovers  of  the  poet  will  be 
pleased  to  have  old  favorites  in  this  attractive  form,  while  many  new 
readers  will  be  attracted  to  the  author  by  it.  Robert  Browning  will  fill 
a  larger  space  in  the  world's  eye  in  the  future  than  he  has  done  already. 
— Brooklyn  Union. 

The  introduction  and  notes  are  all  that  could  be  desired. — N,  Y.  Sun. 

The  book  itself  is  not  only  a  compact  compilation  of  the  three  plays, 
but  it  is  valuable  for  the  commentatory  notes.  The  editing  work  has 
been  done  in  an  able  manner  by  Professor  Rolfe  and  Miss  Hersey,  who 
has  gained  a  high  place  among  the  modern  Browning  students. — Phila- 
delphia Bulletin. 

This  dainty  volume,  with  flexible  covers  and  red  edges,  contains  not 
merely  Browning's  dramas, with  the  author's  latest  emendations  and  cor- 
rections, but  notes  and  estimates,  critical  and  explanatory,  in  such  vol 
ume,  and  from  sources  so  exalted,  that  we  have  not  the  temerity  to  add 
one  jot  or  tittle  to  the  aggregate. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

if  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  they  will  be  sent  by  HARPER 
&  BROTHERS  to  any. address  on  receipt  of  price  as  quoted.  If  ordered  sent  by 
mail,  10  per  cent,  should  be  added  to  the  price  to  cover  cost  of  postage. 


ENGLISH  MEN  OF  LETTERS. 

EDITED    BY   JOHN    MORLEY. 

The  following  volumes  are  now  ready: 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON By  LESLIE  STEPHEN. 

EDWARD  GIBBON By  J.  C.  MORISON. 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT By  R.  H.  MUTTON. 

PERCY   BYSSHE   SHELLEY By  J.  A.  SYMONDS 

DAVID    HUME By  T.  H.  HUXLEY. 

OLIVER   GOLDSMITH By  WILLIAM  BLACK, 

DANIEL  DEFOE By  WILLIAM  MINTO. 

ROBERT  BURNS By  Principal  SHAIRP. 

EDMUND   SPENSEP By  R.  W.  CHURCH. 

WILLIAM   M.  THACKERAY By  ANTHONY  TROLLOPE. 

EDMUND  BURKE By  JOHN  MORLEY. 

JOHN  MILTON By  MARK  PATTISON. 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE By  HENRY  JAMES,  Jj. 

ROBERT  SOUTHEY By  EDWARD  DOWDEN. 

GEOFFREY  CHAUCER By  A.  W.  WARD. 

JOHN   BUNYAN By  J.  A.  FROUDE. 

WILLIAM  COWPER -. .  .By  GOLDWIN  SMITH. 

ALEXANDER   POPE By  LESLIE  STEPHEN. 

LORD   BYRON By  JOHN  NICIIOL. 

JOHN  LOCKE By  THOMAS  FOWLER. 

WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH^ By  F.  W.  H.  MYERS. 

JOHN  DRYDEN By  G.  SAINTSBURY. 

WALTER  SAVAGE  LANDOR By  SIDNEY  COLVIN. 

THOMAS   DE   QUINCEY    By  DAVID  MASSON. 

CHARLES  LAMB By  ALFRED  AINGER. 

RICHARD  BENTLEY By  R.  C.  JEBB. 

CHARLES    DICKENS By  A.  W.  WARD. 

THOMAS  GRAY By  E.  W.  GOSSE. 

JONATHAN    SWIFT By  LESLIE  STEPHEN. 

LAURENCE   STERNE By  H.  D.  TRAILL. 

THOMAS   B.  MACAULAY By  J.  C.  MORISON. 

HENRY  FIELDING By  AUSTIN  DOBSON. 

RICHARD   BRINSLEY   SHERIDAN By  Mrs.  OLIPHANT. 

JOSEPH   ADDISON By  W.  J.  COURTHOPE. 

LORD   BACON By  R.  W.  CHURCH. 

SAMUEL  TAYLOR  COLERIDGE By  H.  D.  TRAILL. 

SIR   PHILIP  SIDNEY By  J.  A.  SYMONDS. 

JOHN  KEATS  By  SIDNEY  COLVIN. 

I2mo,  Cloth,  75  cents  per  volume. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

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postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt 
of  price. 


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